fig  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELA 


Master  Hathorne's  Family. 

Page  96. 


Frontispiece. 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S 
FAMILY: 


A  STORY  OF  THE  EARLY  BOSTON  BAPTISTS 


GEORGE   E.    MERRILL. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
AMERICAN    BAPTIST    PUBLICATION   SOCIETY; 

1430  CHESTNUT  STREET. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PACK 

MASTER  HATHORNB  AT  HOME 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
RUTH  HATHORNE 23 

CHAPTER  III. 
PAUL  WALLINGFORD'S  VIEWS 40 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  WRECKED  BOAT 58 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  ANXIOUS  INOJJIRER 72 

CHAPTER  VI. 
PAUL  WALLINGFORD'S  PURPOSE. 91 

CHAPTER  VII.  . 

A  STORM  IN  THE  FAMILY 117 

I 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  PROVIDENCE 131 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  STORY  OF  OBADIAH  HOLMES 157 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  TREACHEROUS  ATTACK. 179 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  RESCUE  OF  RUTH 188 

CHAPTER   XII. 
ARRIVAL  AT  ROGER  WILLIAMS' 200 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
PAUL  EXPLAINS  HIS  PLANS 214 

CHAPTER  XTV. 
RUTH'S  JOURNAL 222 

CHAPTER  XV. 
RUTH'S  PERPLEXITIES 231 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  DECISION  OF  JOHN  AND  RUTH 949 


CONTENTS.  5 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

PAGB 

PRBPARINO  FOR  A  RETURN  HOME 366 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THE  PURITAN  RECEPTION  OF  JOHN  AND  RUTH 274 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
GOODMAN  LOWE'S  HOME 293 

CHAPTER  XX. 
GRACE  HATHORNE  VISITS  RUTH 305 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  MIDNIGHT  ARREST 320 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
BAPTISM  OF  JOHN  AND  RUTH 337 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
JOHN  AND  RUTH  CAST  INTO  PRISON 335 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
LITTLE  GRACE'S  RESOLUTION. 344 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
PLAN  FOR  ESCAPE J5I 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
CAST  OUT  FROM  HOME •. . . 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
THE  PURITAN'S  DEATHBED 372 

CHAPTER  XXVIH. 
THE  NEW  FAMILY  HOME  AT  PROVIDENCE 381 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    FAMILY   CIRCLE. 

|HE  dark  November  night  had  settled 
down  stormily  over  the  town  of 
Boston,  and  the  wind  howled  drearily 
enough  through  the  deserted  streets,  whirling 
the  snow-flakes  hither  and  thither  and  heaping 
up  many  a  drift  beneath  the  fences  and  walls. 
Winter  had  set  in  with  all  the  severity  of 
bleak  New  England,  and  the  colonists  had 
been  for  the  last  month  looking  carefully  to 
\heir  dwellings  and  the  shelters  for  their  cattle, 
and  laying  in  large  stores  of  firewood. 

The  night  was  dreary  out  of  doors,  but  the 
little  family-room  of  Ezekiel  Hathorne's  dwell- 
ing was  only  made  the  more  attractive  by  the 


6  MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY, 

tempest  without  and  the  beating  of  the  sleet 
against  the  closed  shutters.  Even  had  the 
room  been  without  occupants,  the  cosy,  com- 
fortable furniture,  the  blazing  wood-fire,  the 
tall  candles  burning  upon  the  table,  would 
have  assured  the  stranger  a  retreat  full  of 
ease  and  security ;  but  with  the  father  of  the 
family  seated  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair  by 
the  hearth,  with  the  mother  busily  engaged 
in  knitting  at  the  table,  and  with  John  and 
Ruth  and  Grace  and  little  Willie  seated 
around  at  different  occupations  and  in  the 
unstudied  attitudes  of  home,  it  was  such  a 
picture  of  peace  and  comfort  that  one  could 
have  wished  for  nothing  more. 

The  dwelling  of  Master  Hathorne  was  not 
of  the  class  usually  found  in  the  little  towns 
of  the  colony.  It  was  finished  with  some 
pretensions  to  the  architectural  style  of  the 
period,  built  of  substantial  material,  and,  as 
the  house  of  a  man  of  wealth,  displayed  traces 
of  care  and  skill  in  construction,  though  utter- 
ly devoid  of  any  attempt  at  exterior  adorn- 
ment. The  timbers  were  covered  with  rough 
boards,  to  which  the  changes  of  the  weather 


MASTER  HATHOKNE'S  FAMILY.  9 

had  given  a  dark  brown  color.  The  upper 
story  of  the  house  projected  over  the  lower 
one  in  front,  shading  the  door  and  windows 
of  the  ground  floor,  and  the  roof  was  deep 
and  overhanging,  allowing  spaces  at  the  ends 
of  the  house  for  windows  above  the  second 
story.  Surrounded  by  a  large  garden  and 
orchard,  and  approached  from  the  street  by 
means  of  a  winding  path  of  some  length,  the 
dwelling  had  all  the  advantages  of  retirement 
in  the  midst  of  the  town. 

The  interior  of  the  house  was  of  a  much 
more  finished  and  elegant  appearance  than 
the  exterior.  The  large  hall — extending  from 
the  front  to  the  back  of  the  house,  with  a  door 
at  each  end,  the  one  in  front  opening  upon  a 
little  paved  court-yard,  and  that  at  the  rear 
upon  an  ample  vegetable  garden,  from  which 
the  kitchen  was  supplied — was  sprinkled  with 
a  neat  covering  of  white  beach-sand.  At  the 
foot  of  the  broad  staircase  stood  the  tall  clock 
that  had  been  brought  with  the  family  from 
England,  and  two  large  oaken  arm-chairs  ex- 
tended a  hospitable  invitation  to  rest  to  all  who 
came  beneath  the  roof.  Doors  upon  each  side 


10  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

of  the  hall  opened  into  cheerful  rooms,  some 
of  which  had  walls  covered  with  hangings 
imported  at  considerable  expense,  and  fur- 
nished in  a  manner  becoming  the  dwelling 
of  the  wealthy  and  honored  master. 

Mr.  Hathorne  had  left  England  on  the 
occasion  of  some  political  trouble  that  ren- 
dered it  expedient  for  him  to  seek  the  New 
World  a  little  less  than  thirty  years  after 
the  founding  of  Plymouth  Colony,  bringing 
with  him  a  capital  large  enough  to  establish 
a  prosperous  business  and  to  enable  him  to 
greatly  increase  his  wealth.  He  was  a  man 
of  note  in  the  colony,  having  sufficient  claims 
to  gentility  to  be  styled  master  by  his  fellow- 
townsmen,  and  of  such  uprightness  of  cha- 
racter and  manifest  piety  as  to  be  looked  upon 
as  a  strong  pillar  of  the  church.  Shrewd  in 
business,  always  keeping  an  eye  open  for  the 
main  chance,  scrupulously  attentive  to  the 
requirements  of  the  church,  and  maintaining 
in  all  cases  a  strict  reserve  toward  his  infe- 
riors, while  he  was  always  affecting  an  affa- 
ble, and  at  the  same  time  a  humble,  demeanor 
toward  those  in  high  places,  he  had  succeed- 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  II 

ed  in  gaining  the  respect,  if  not  the  love,  cf 
all  who  knew  him  ;  and  had  Master  Ezekiel 
Hathorne's  place  become  empty  by  any  mis- 
hap, his  loss  would  have  been  sorely  felt  by 
the  community. 

Hannah,  his  wife,  was  of  a  somewhat 
different  nature.  Hers  was  a  disposition 
eminently  designed  to  attract  the  love  as 
well  as  the  reverence  of  her  companions. 
Mild  and  humble,  living  wholly  in  the  fear 
of  God,  and  displaying  a  true  Christian 
benignity  toward  all  men  whether  of  high 
or  low  station,  her  influence  over  her  house- 
hold was  unlimited.  A  noble  example  of 
a  true,  pure-souled  Christian  mother,  she 
moulded  the  hearts  of  her  children  after  her 
own,  and  endowed  them  with  every  good  gift 
in  the  power  of  a  mother  to  bestow.  Her 
two  youngest  children  had  been  born  in 
America,  while  John  and  Ruth — the  former 
a  young  man  of  twenty-eight  years  of  age 
and  the  latter  a  girl  of  nineteen — had  crossed 
the  ocean  with  her,  bringing  with  them, 
though  so  young,  many  refining  remem- 
brances of  their  happy  home  in  England. 


12          MASTER  HAT  HORNETS  FAMILY, 

The  family  had  been  seated  thus  in  their 
cosy  sitting-room  for  about  an  hour  after  the 
evening  meal,  when  the  old  house-servant, 
Prudence,  entered  with  a  folded  paper  in  her 
hand.  Ruth,  the  dark-haired,  brown-eyed 
girl,  arose,  and  taking  it  from  her,  handed  it  to 
her  father.  Prudence  remarked  that  it  had 
been  left  at  the  door  while  the  family  were  at 
supper,  and  then  withdrew  to  the  kitchen.  A 
shadow  of  displeasure  crept  over  Mr.  Ha- 
thorne's  face  as  he  cast  his  eye  upon  the  con- 
tents of  the  note.  Ruth  noticed  the  change 
in  his  countenance,  and  with  ill-concealed 
impatience  waited  for  him  to  speak,  for  she 
had  marked  his  quick,  disturbed  glance  at 
herself  and  John  as  soon  as  he  had  learned 
the  subject  of  the  writing. 

"  Unpleasant  news,"  he  said  as  he  slowly 
folded  up  the  paper  and  nervously  pressed 
the  creases  between  his  fingers.  "  Mr. 
Wilson  warns  me  to  keep  strict  regard  over 
our  young  friend  from  Rhode  Island.  He 
fears  he  has  brought  among  us  the  taint  of 
heresy,  and  God  forbid  the  church  should 
suffer  from  any  one  sheltered  beneath  my 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          13 

roof.  John,  Ruth,  you  are  more  in  his  com- 
pany than  your  mother  or  I.  I  shall  depend 
upon  you  to  watch  carefully  for  this  sin." 

"  Paul  Wallingford  I"  said  John,  looking 
up  quickly  and  laying  aside  the  book  he  was 
reading;  "there  is  no  thought  farther  from 
his  mind  than  the  thought  of  heresy.  As 
for  the  doctrines  of  the  Quakers,  to  which  his 
parents,  as  he  has  often  told  me,  at  one  time 
inclined,  he  could — " 

"It  is  not  that  which  Mr.  Wilson  fears. 
Unhappily,  Quakerism  has  no  longer  the 
vigorous  enemies  it  once  had.  But  there  are 
other  forms  of  dissent  as  deeply  sinful  and 
as  carefully  to  be  guarded  against  as  that. 
Paul  Wallingford,  though  not  of  Baptist 
parents,  may  yet  espouse  their  doctrines  him- 
self, and  I  would  object  no  more  to  harboring 
a  Quaker  beneath  my  roof  than  to  receiv- 
ing as  our  family  friend  one  of  these  other 
heretics." 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  the  Baptists,"  John 
answered,  passing  his  hand  across  his  brow. 
"  But  I  have  no  fears  on  that  question.  Paul 
is  too  sensible  a  young  man  to  be  led  away 


H          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

by  the  absurdities  and  the  deep  sinfulness  of 
their  belief.  It  can  never  be." 

"Then  you  have  never  heard  him  express 
any  dangerous  opinions?"  asked  the  father, 
doubtingly. 

"  Never,  sir,  upon  any  occasion  whatever.** 

"  Nor  you,  Ruth?"  and  he  fixed  his  search- 
ing glance  upon  his  daughter's  face. 

"  No,  sir.  We  have  spoken  of  the  Baptists 
as  of  the  Quakers  and  Antinomians,  but  only 
to  call  up  their  differences  from  the  belief  of 
the  church.  Paul  cherishes  no  such  opinions, 
I  feel  sure. 

His  daughter  spoke  with  so  much  warmth 
and  assurance  that  her  father  was  satisfied  and 
pursued  his  inquiries  no  farther,  and  for  the 
time  the  subject  was  dropped. 

The  person  of  whom  they  spoke,  Paul 
Wallingford,  was  a  young  man  who  had  come 
to  Boston  from  Providence  for  the  purpose  of 
completing  his  education  by  passing  a  year  at 
Harvard  College,  having  already  mastered  the 
course  of  study  pursued  by  the  lower  classes 
of  that  institution  at  his  home.  He  brought 
with  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Master 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          15 

Hathorne  from  Roger  Williams,  with  whose 
family  his  own  was  intimate,  and  he  had  thus 
been  a  welcome  and  frequent  visitor  at  the 
Hathorne  mansion  since  his  arrival,  now  a 
period  of  two  months. 

Wallingford  was  by  nearly  seven  years 
the  junior  of  John  Hathorne,  of  fine  and  com- 
manding appearance,  possessed  of  a  tall  and 
well-shaped  frame,  of  an  ardent  disposition, 
and  a  large,  generous  heart.  His  dark,  wavy 
hair,  brushed  back  from  his  forehead,  revealed 
an  extraordinary  breadth  of  brow  ;  his  black, 
piercing  eye  was  beautiful  to  his  friends,  but 
its  glance  was  feared  by  those  who  had  of- 
fended him ;  his  naturally  dark  complexion 
was  still  darker  from  exposure  to  the  rays  of 
the  New  England  sun,  and  his  firm-set  lips 
and  unshrinking  mien  displayed  the  straight- 
forward determination  of  his  character.  A 
strong  friendship  had  sprung  up  between  him 
and  John  in  the  beginning  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, and  no  difference  had  ever  occurred  to 
mar  its  continuance.  As  far  as  the  studies 
of  the  former  would  permit,  they  were  con- 
stantly together,  sharing  each  other's  pleasures 


1 6          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

and  aiding  as  far  as  possible  in  each  other's 
labors. 

Let  it  not  seem  strange  that  Mr.  Hathorne, 
one  of  the  strictest  of  the  Puritans,  should 
have  received  Paul  Wallingford  as  his  guest 
upon  an  introductory  letter  from  that  energetic 
opponent  of  the  Puritan  Church,  Roger  Wil- 
liams !  Previous  to  the  departure  of  the  latter 
from  England,  and  long  before  his  political 
and  religious  opinions  had  differed  so  widely 
from  established  principles,  the  two  had  been 
neighbors  and  close  friends.  During  the 
residence  of  Williams  in  Salem  he  had  been 
a  neighbor  of  William  Hathorne,  a  magistrate 
of  the  colony,  and  a  near  relation  of  his  for- 
mer friend,  Ezekiel,  in  England.  While  in 
Salem  he  had  repeatedly  interchanged  letters 
with  his  old  friend  through  the  aid  of  his  own 
friends  and  those  of  Williams  who  made  the 
voyage  between  the  two  countries.  Ezekiel 
did  not  emigrate  to  New  England  till  many 
years  after  Roger  Williams'  banishment,  when 
not  only  his  political  opinions  had  changed, 
but  also  when  his  religious  dogmas  had  de- 
clared him  to  be  the  bitter  enemy  of  the  Pur- 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  17 

itan  faith.  All  communication  had  long 
since  ceased  between  them,  the  breach  of 
friendship  growing  wider  with  the  lapse  of 
years.  But  a  few  years  after  Hathorne's  ar- 
rival, he  had  been  obliged  to  leave  his  home 
and  spend  enough  time  in  Providence  to  ar- 
range some  important  business  transactions. 

The  length  of  time  he  was  obliged  to  pass 
away  from  home  induced  him  to  take  with 
him  on  his  journey  his  wife  and  daughter,  an 
undertaking  of  no  small  difficulty  in  those 
days  of  dangerous  wilderness  travel.  Upon 
their  arrival  in  Providence,  their  old  friend, 
with  the  noble-hearted  generosity  which  he 
exercised  even  toward  his  persecutors,  had 
hastened  to  greet  them.  By  his  kind  words 
and  kinder  actions  he  had  allayed  all  unpleas- 
antness of  feeling,  and  had  actually  forced  Mr. 
Hathorne,  anxious  as  he  was  for  the  welfare 
and  comfort  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  to  ac- 
cept the  hospitality  of  his  roof;  and  here,  for 
nearly  ten  months,  the  two  families  had  lived 
together  in  perfect  amity,  differing  only  in  the 
peculiar  tenets  held  by  Williams,  and,  for  the 
time  at  least,  passing  over  every  approach  to 

2»  B 


1 8       'MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

disaffection.  The  stern  Puritan  could  not  find 
it  in  his  heart,  even  after  his  return  to  his  home, 
to  allow  for  a  moment  the  hatred  of  the  enemy 
of  the  church  to  destroy  the  remembrance  of 
the  kindness  and  benefactions  of  his  friend. 

Our  little  family  circle  was  not  long  un- 
disturbed in  its  quiet,  for  a  quick  knock  at 
the  door  announced  the  arrival  of  him  of 
whom  they  had  just  been  speaking.  John 
laid  aside  his  book  and  hastened  into  the  hall 
to  aid  his  friend  in  laying  off  his  thick  outer 
cloak,  while  a  cheerful  bustle  in  the  little 
room  plainly  showed  that  their  visitor  was 
no  other  than  a  welcome  one. 

Exchanging  greetings  with  all  in  the  formal 
Puritan  manners,  though  so  far  departing 
from  this  as  to  stoop  and  kiss  the  little  Willie, 
who  stood  by  his  knee,  Paul  Wallingford  took 
the  chair  placed  by  the  fire  for  him,  and  be- 
came at  once  a  glad  contributor  to  the  joys  of 
the  evening. 

It  was  a  hard  journey  upon  such  a  stormy 
evening  from  the  college  to  Boston.  The 
way  must  be  traversed  by  a  little-frequented 
road  to  the  river-side,  and  there  the  dashing 


MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.          19 

waves  must  be  crossed  in  a  small  boat,  blown 
hither  and  thither  by  the  force  of  the  tempest. 
The  fact  of  Paul's  presence  among  them  upon 
such  a  night  would  have  been  enough  to  prove 
the  young  man's  need  of  the  enjoyments  of  a 
home. 

"We  had  a  hard  time  on  the  river  to- 
night," he  said.  "  I  almost  regretted  at  one 
time  that  I  set  out  in  such  a  storm,  but  then 
the  recollection  of  the  warm  place  here  by 
your  fireside  for  me  and  the  cheerful  faces  to 
greet  me  strengthened  my  arm  and  gave  me 
courage.  I  had  to  take  an  oar  myself,  for 
old  James,  the  one  who  always  rows  me  over, 
was  so  exhausted  with  pulling  against  the 
wind  that  he  was  glad  enough  to  accept  my 
offer  of  help." 

"The  offer  would  have  been  made  had 
the  water  been  as  smooth  as  glass,"  said  John, 
smiling.  "You  know  you  always  help  the 
old  man  when  you  cross ;  and  as  I  am  so  well 
aware  of  your  habit,  you  need  not  try  to  hide 
your  kind  deeds." 

"We  know  you,  sir!"  cried  little  Grace* 
merrily;  "when  you  say,  'This  time  the 


20         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

waves  were  so  high,'  we  think  every  time, 
rough  or  smooth ;"  and  the  little  girl  shook 
her  head  in  grave  negation  at  Paul's  modest 
way  of  speaking. 

"But  merely  to  take  an  oar,  when — " 
ventured  Paul. 

"  Merely  to  take  an  oar,  when  it  would  be 
easier  to  sit  still  and  let  an  old  man  do  all  the 
work,  is  not  to  be  covered  up  so  easily,"  cried 
Grace  again.  "  I  wish  I  had  so  many  good 
qualities  that  I  could  afford  to  hide  any  of 
them." 

Thus  spoke  "little  Grace,"  as  her  sister 
and  John  familiarly  called  her,  a  child  of 
fourteen  years,  the  light  of  the  household,  in 
whom  Ruth  often  said  to  "the  others  no  fault 
was  to  be  found.  When  the  elder  sister  said 
this  of  their  pet,  the  mother  would  smile  grate- 
fully, but  the  father  shook  his  head  doubting- 
ly.  Sometimes  he  would  speak  and  say : 
"  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things." 

So  passed  the  evening  pleasantly  away 
till  the  hour  for  retirement  came.  Then  Ruth 
took  the  family  Bible  from  its  table  and  laid 
it  before  her  father.  The  domestics  were 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          21 

summoned  from  the  kitchen,  and  when  all 
were  assembled  in  respectful  silence,  the 
father  of  the  family  began  the  exercises  of 
evening  worship. 

Mr.  Hathorne  had  chosen  for  this  evening 
a  part  of  the  fourth  chapter  of  Ephesians. 
With  particular  emphasis  he  read:  "There 
is  one  body,  and  one  spirit,  even  as  ye  are 
called  in  one  hope  of  your  calling;  one  Lord, 
one  faith,  one  baptism,  one  God  and  Father 
of  all,  who  is  above  all,  and  through  all,  and 
in  you  all.  But  unto  every  one  of  us  is  given 
grace  according  to  the  measure  of  the  gift  of 
Christ.  .  .  .  And  he  gave  some  apostles ; 
and  some  prophets ;  and  some  evangelists ; 
and  some  pastors  and  teachers ;  .  .  .  that 
we  henceforth  be  no  more  children,  tossed  to 
and  fro,  and  carried  about  with  every  wind  of 
doctrine  by  the  sleight  of  men,  and  cunning 
craftiness,  whereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  de- 
ceive." 

The  prayer  followed,  and  the  solemn  voice 
of  the  good  man  prayed  that  the  Giver  of  all 
good  things  would  send  down  upon  them  the 
blessing  of  peace ;  that  they  might  be  kept 


22         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

from  the  evil  of  the  world ;  from  the  taint  of 
the  heresies  that  sought  the  destruction  of 
God's  church ;  from  all  the  sleight  and  cun- 
ning craftiness  of  men. 

Then  a  psalm  was  sung,  the  clear  voice  of 
Ruth  leading  the  others  in  beautiful,  soul-stir- 
ring melody.  The  "  good-nights"  were  said, 
the  light  of  the  candles  flickered  along  the 
dark  walls  of  the  hall,  the  uncarpeted  stairs 
echoed  to  the  tread  of  retiring  footsteps,  and 
darkness  and  silence  brooded  over  the  dwell- 
ing. 

O  ye  blessed  angels  who  watch  over  the 
abodes  of  men,  must  schism  and  discord  mar 
the  peace  of  this  happy  home,  dividing  the 
ties  between  parent  and  child,  between  hus- 
band and  wife? 

Ay  I  if  the  ofttimes  bitter  drop  of  truth,  dis- 
tilled from  the  alembic  of  the  soul,  be  pre- 
sented to  the  thirsting  lips  of  the  child  of 
God.  Ay  I  schism  and  discord,  sorrow  and 
even  death,  if  for  conscience*  sake. 


CHAPTER  II. 

RUTH  HATHORNE. 

JEAUTY  is  spiritual ;  the  most  perfect 
features  are  unmeaning  until  irradiated 
by  the  light  of  the  soul." 
Ruth  Hathorne  was  a  beautiful  woman,  be- 
cause her  whole  being  was  flooded  with  this 
inner  light,  beaming  forth  in  the  perfect 
brightness  of  truth  and  holiness.  Yet  her 
beauty  was  not  such  as  would  readily  attract 
the  notice  of  a  casual  observer.  Her  dark 
eyes  were  shaded  by  long  and  heavy  lashes ; 
her  cheeks  were  pale,  needing  the  impulse  of 
excitement  to  bring  the  rose  flush  to  them; 
her  small  mouth,  with  lips  bowed  like  the 
little  archer's  weapon,  disclosed  pearl-white 
teeth ;  but,  withal,  she  was  not  what  one 
would  call  handsome.  It  was  to  those  who 
knew  her  that  she  was  beautiful,  supremely 

23 


H         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

lovely.  Her  face  needed  study,  as  her  soul 
invited  careful  reading.  Then  few  blemishes 
could  be  found  in  either. 

Her  "  little  Grace,"  too,  was  beautiful, 
though  her  beauty  was  of  a  different  cast 
from  her  own.  Grace  had  her  mother's  com- 
plexion and  features ;  Ruth  resembled  her 
father  more  closely.  Light,  almost  golden, 
hair  shed  a  beautiful  radiance  upon  the 
younger  sister's  countenance ;  and  light  blue, 
dancing  eyes  and  a  perpetually  smiling  mouth 
gave  her  an  appearance  of  vivacity  and  even 
sportiveness  seldom  seen  in  the  children  of 
the  staid  Puritans.  Indeed  the  joyousness  of 
her  disposition  was  continually  boiling  over 
and  eliciting  rebuke  from  Mr.  Hathorne  for 
her  unbecoming  levity. 

The  two  sisters,  though  very  different  in 
temperament,  were  ardently  attached  to  each 
other,  seeking  in  each  other's  society,  in  the 
quiet  of  their  own  home,  almost  all  the  pleas- 
ures they  enjoyed.  Ruth  would  often  tell  her 
sister  of  their  old  home  in  England ;  and 
Grace  would  listen  for  hours,  as  they  worked 
together,  to  these  beautiful  tales  of  a  land  she 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          25 

had  seen  only  in  her  sleeping  arid  waking 
dreams — of  the  bright  gardens  and  pleasant 
green  lawns  that  stretched  away  in  front  of 
the  houses  in  plains  as  smooth  and  soft  as 
velvet ;  of  the  flowing  rivers  and  picturesque 
hills  and  dales ;  of  the  forests,  unlike  the  wild 
and  dreadful  woods  of  America,  where  fierce 
beasts  and  hostile  Indians  ranged  beneath  the 
deep  shadows,  but  more  open  and  free  from 
tangled  underbrush,  and  where,  sometimes, 
the  king  would  have  great  hunts  after  the 
timid  deer  and  the  wild  boar ;  and  then  of  the 
great  cities,  hundreds  of  times  larger  than 
their  Boston,  packed  with  houses  and  filled 
with  bustle  and  confusion,  where  timid 
maidens  like  themselves  could  easily  be  lost 
in  the  maze  of  streets  and  throngs  of  people 
hurrying  to  and  fro. 

Grace  was  never  tired  of  hearing  of  her 
sister's  early  home,  and  her  blue  eyes  would 
become  serious  and  open  wide  with  wonder ; 
her  work  would  lie  neglected  in  her  lap ; 
and  all  her  attention  be  wrapped  up  in  the 
scenes  pictured  out  to  her  imagination  by  the 
glowing  descriptions  of  Ruth.  The  fair  nar- 


26  MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT. 

rator  herself  was  as  glad  to  talk  of  the  old, 
familiar  scenes  as  was  her  listener  to  attend, 
for  with  her  old  home  only  the  pleasantest 
memories  of  childhood  were  connected,  and 
it  was  only  a  delightful  task  to  recall  again 
and  again  the  happy  hours  that  had  passed 
away  for  ever ;  for  Ruth  sometimes  remember- 
ed with  sadness  that  she  was  now  a  woman, 
or  if  not  quite  one  in  years,  yet  wholly  mature 
in  experience.  The  cares  and  labors  that 
devolved  upon  the  younger  members  o'f  a 
New  England  household  were  by  no  means 
so  light  as  to  leave  no  trace  upon  the  cha- 
racter ;  and  those  who  had  but  a  few  months 
before  been  mere  children  suddenly  became 
men  and  women,  taking  their  full  part  in  all 
the  active  concerns  of  life. 

These  emergencies  of  the  daily  life  of  New 
England  had  served  to  render  Ruth  not  only 
more  mature  in  character  and  experience  than 
in  years,  but  to  make  her  already  susceptible 
nature  more  keenly  alive  to  the  signification 
of  every  incident  that  occurred  in  the  course 
of  events  both  at  home  and  abroad ;  of  these 
she  was  a  careful  observer,  and  many  a  lesson 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  27 

of  deep  importance  had  been  gleaned  by  her 
ever  watchful  mind. 

It  was  about  two  years  before  the  time  of 
the  opening  of  our  story  that  Ruth  had  been 
deeply  impressed  by  the  circumstances  that 
then  transpired  in  connection  with  the  Qua- 
kers. The  dreadful  proclamations  of  punish- 
ment by  scourging,  banishment,  and  death, 
sometimes  made  beneath  the  very  windows 
of  her  home,  had  shocked  her  pure  soul,  and 
led  her  to  think  deeply  of  the  interests  for 
which  this  persecuted  sect  were  striving  and 
suffering.  She  knew  little  of  their  doctrines, 
but  the  very  fact  of  their  being  ready  to 
endure  distress  and  all  manner  of  disgrace 
in  the  championship  of  what  they  believed  to 
be  religious  truth  was  an  invincible  argument 
with  her  in  their  favor. 

A  few  months  before  the  execution  of  Mary 
Dyer,  Mr.  Hathorne  had  one  day  taken  his 
family  to  Roxbury  to  be  present  at  a  large 
gathering  of  Indians  and  colonists  to  hear 
the  pious  Eliot  preach.  After  the  services 
were  concluded,  Mr.  Hathorne  had  to  remain 
:i  while  to  complete  some  arrangements  for  a 


28  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

second  meeting  with  the  missionary,  Eliot, 
and  the  church  elders.  John  and  Ruth  in 
the  mean  time  strayed  away  into  the  woods, 
searching  for  wild  flowers  with  which  to 
adorn  their  table  at  home.  Unconsciously 
they  wandered  farther  away  than  they  at  first 
intended,  and  their  steps  were  only  arrested 
by  the  sudden  opening  of  the  woods,  where 
a  little  clearing  presented  itself.  In  this  was 
an  assemblage  of  people  much  fewer  in 
number  than  those  they  had  left,  engaged 
in  the  same  occupation  that  had  held  them- 
selves during  the  afternoon.  A  few  moments 
sufficed  to  show  them  that  a  body  of  Quakers 
were  holding  their  meeting  in  the  secluded 
spot,  one  of  them  at  that  moment  speaking  to 
them  from  a  mossy  stone  that  raised  him  a 
few  feet  from  the  ground. 

John  was  for  immediately  returning  to  their 
party,  but  Ruth  begged  him  so  earnestly  to 
remain,  if  but  for  a  moment,  to  hear  the  words 
that  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  that  he 
reluctantly  consented,  and  leaving  the  covei 
of  the  forest,  they  joined  the  listening  band. 

The  speaker  was  a  young  man,  singularly 


MASTER  PIATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          29 

earnest  in  his  manner,  engaging  and  holding 
the  attention  of  every  one  of  his  audience. 
His  sermon — for  sermon  it  was — was  near  its 
completion,  and  he  was  now  closing  with 
solemn  words  concerning  their  dangers  and 
duties,  the  mistakes  of  the  past  and  the  plans 
he  warned  them  to  follow  that  a  better  future 
might  be  ensured  to  them.  After  the  first  few 
words  that  fell  upon  her  ear,  Ruth  listened 
with  breathless  attention,  fearing  to  lose  a 
syllable,  a  gesture,  a  breath.  These  were 
new  ideas  to  her.  It  was  a  new  doctrine, 
this  belief  that  God  had  placed  an  inward 
light  in  the  soul — a  light  whose  illumination 
might  some  time  be  greater  even  than  that  of 
the  Scripture.  She  knew  not  at  first  whether 
to  fear  or  admire  this  dogma,  but  the  earnest, 
eloquent  words  of  the  young  speaker,  infect- 
ing each  one  of  his  hearers  with  his  own  in- 
tense enthusiasm,  led  her  to  mistrust  her  own 
fears,  and  to  hope  that  there  could  not  be  so 
deadly  a  poison  in  it,  since  one  so  wise  and 
noble,  so  near  the  moral  stature  of  a  perfect 
man,  as  this  zealous  advocate  seemed  to  be, 
could  receive  it  as  his  rule  of  life. 

3* 


3°  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAM1LT. 

She  was  glad,  too,  that  he  warned  them  of 
the  consequences  of  the  mistaken  zeal  that  led 
them  to  such  unseemly  acts  as  those  which 
had  been  their  shame  in  the  past.  He  con- 
jured them  to  forsake  this  folly — the  wearing 
of  sackcloth,  the  sprinkling  of  ashes  on  the 
disheveled  hair,  the  insults  offered  to  the 
ministers  of  the  church  while  in  the  discharge 
of  their  public  duties.  He  reminded  them 
with  burning  words  that  their  thirst  for 
martyrdom,  if  not  unholy,  was  at  feast  a 
curse  to  their  cause ;  that  it  was  not  the  sacri- 
fice, torn  and  bleeding,  which  was  most  ac- 
ceptable to  God,  but  the  gift  of  a  broken  and 
penitent  heart  worshiping  in  the  secrecy  of 
the  closet,  not  seeking  to  display  its  piety  to 
the  public  gaze ;  and  that  the  manifest  truth 
and  sublimity  of  their  great  doctrine,  the  re- 
vealed light  of  the  soul,  should  be  thought 
sufficient  to  win  the  belief  of  strangers  to 
their  own  form  of  religion,  without  the  aid  of 
virulent  attacks  upon  all  those  of  another 
faith  and  disgraceful  suffering  upon  their 
own  part. 

Then  a  silence  fell  on  all  the  assembly,  and 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          31 

the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  the  babbling  of  the 
brook,  and  the  sweet  songs  of  the  birds  that 
fluttered  over  their  heads,  as  if  waiting  to 
bear  away  to  the  highest  heaven  the  words 
of  the  prayer  that  should  follow,  were  the 
only  sounds  that  broke  the  otherwise  perfect 
stillness. 

Then  the  calm,  solemn  voice  that  had 
ceased  exhorting  arose  in  reverent  petition 
and  thanksgiving  to  the  most  high  God. 
There  was  not  a  soul  of  those  that  listened 
that  was  not  in  the  presence  of  the  Infinite. 
Slowly  the  tears  began  to  flow  from  Ruth's 
uplifted  eyes ;  with  fervid  earnestness  her 
clasped  hands  quivered  in  her  lap.  She 
thought  not  who  was  leading  up  her  soul  to 
such  a  dazzling  height ;  whether  Puritan  or 
Quaker,  it  did  not  trouble  her ;  she  was  gaz- 
ing on  the  face  of  God,  she  was  clinging  to 
the  outstretched  hand  of  Christ. 

Even  John  trembled.  The  zealous  young 
Puritan,  the  leader  of  the  youth  of  the  church, 
he  to  whom  all  the  elder  members  looked  as 
the  chief  spirit  of  those  who  should  one  day 
fill  their  places,  trembled  beneath  the  burning 


32  MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

eloquence  of  the  praying  soul.  His  proud 
head  remained  sternly  erect,  but  the  half- 
scornful  smile  that  had  rested  upon  his  face 
at  the  beginning  of  the  prayer  had  faded 
entirely  away,  and  when  with  the  closing 
words  silence  again  fell  upon  the  assembly, 
a  low  murmured  "Amen"  came  almost  un- 
bidden to  his  lips. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when 
they  turned  away  to  retrace  their  steps  to 
the  party  they  had  left.  Their  absence  had 
created  some  uneasiness  on  the  part  of  their 
friends,  who  had  delayed  their  departure  on 
their  account,  but  the  abundance  of  bright- 
hued  flowers  which  burdened  their  hands  was 
a  sufficient  excuse  for  their  tardiness,  and  as 
John  had  given  ready  assent  to  Ruth's  re- 
quest, nothing  further  was  said  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  they  had  spent  their  time. 

The  influence  of  this  Quaker  meeting  had 
been  great  in  leading  Ruth  to  think  upon 
their  doctrines  and  the  conflicting  teachings 
of  her  own  church.  The  more  she  reflected 
upon  what  she  had  heard  that  day,  the  more  in- 
clined was  she  to  respect  the  spirit  that  prompt- 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         33 

ed  men  to  avow  doctrines  they  knew  would 
bring  them  into  disrepute,  yet  which  they 
could  not  reject  without  violation  of  the  sacred 
law  declared  to  them  by  conscience — "The 
voice  of  God  revealed  in  the  heart  of  man." 
What  was  this  light  that  seemed  breaking  in 
upon  her  soul?  She  could  not  tell.  She  did 
not  dare  to  admit  to  herself  for  a  moment  that 
the  heresy  of  the  Quakers  was  making  the 
conquest  of  her  heart,  but  she  was  conscious 
of  a  change  in  herself,  of  a  calmer,  nobler 
trust  in  God,  in  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  and 
the  Son  of  man,  than  she  had  ever  known 
before.  Yet  there  was  one  thing  that  troubled 
her :  if  it  was  the  voice  of  God  that  spake  in 
the  hearts  of  the  Quakers,  if  it  was  a  divine 
light  that  illuminated  their  souls  so  brightly 
that  its  radiance  was  sufficient  for  their  journey 
through  life,  why  were  they  led  to  such  ex- 
tremes of  fanaticism  as  those  which  their 
youthful  adviser  had  warned  them  to  avoid? 
Why  were  they  not  all  like  him  to  whose 
eloquent  words  her  heart  had  throbbed  in 
joyful  response?  As  time  went  on,  each 
day  only  brought  new  tidings  of  the  violence 


34         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

and  almost  insufferable  insolence  of  the  most 
notorious  of  the  sect,  and  as  a  natural  result 
her  modest  soul  shrunk  appalled  from  such 
an  excess  of  spiritual  zeal,  from  such  a  turbu- 
lence of  unrestrained  feeling.  Then  came  the 
crisis.  Persons  had  suffered  public  punish- 
ment before — scourging,  mutilation,  banish- 
ment, death — but  now  an  aged  woman  was  to 
ascend  the  scaffold.  Ruth  herself  had  seen 
the  trouble  occasioned  by  this  turbulent  spirit 
at  one  time,  when  the  services  in  church  had 
been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  two 
women — Mary  Dyer  following  them  and  en- 
couraging them  by  her  presence — who  had 
desecrated  the  house  of  God,  applying  all 
manner  of  opprobrious  language  to  the  head 
of  the  Boston  church,  the  aged  and  pious 
Wilson,  and  stopping  the  progress  of  the 
service.  She  had  gazed  with  wonder  upon 
the  gray  head  that  could  so  disgrace  itself, 
so  dishonor  the  religion  of  the  true  and  living 
God,  as  to  be  a  participant  in  such  a  scene, 
and  she  ceased  to  wonder  at  the  severity  of 
the  judges  who  were  called  upon  to  punish 
these  evil-doers.  She  was  shocked  that  they 


MASTER  HATHORNE^S  FAMILT.          35 

should  be  made  to  suffer  death ;  better  submit 
to  their  mad  folly  and  wait  for  time  to  erad- 
icate the  evil ;  but  every  feeling,  every  instinct 
of  her  nature  forbade  the  slightest  sympathy 
for  their  shameless  excesses ;  and  now  that 
even  the  gray  hairs  of  age  were  polluted 
with  the  mire  of  fanaticism,  she  began  to 
distrust  the  faith  of  such  spirits,  that  faith 
which  she  had  almost  begun  to  reverence 
and  cherish  in  the  days  that  had  now  for 
ever  gone  by. 

Ruth  awakened  from  her  dream.  "  The 
inward  light"  she  saw  was  not  enough.  The 
light  of  God's  revealed  word,  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  was  not  to  be  shaded,  and  even 
put  out,  by  the  light  of  the  soul.  Both  might 
be  combined  and  throw  united  lustre  upon  the 
pathway  of  life,  but  alone,  the  light  in  the 
soul  was  insufficient,  for  it  was  too  often 
shaded  by  error,  too  often  counterfeited  by 
false  lights  that  would  lead  far  astray. 

Yet  her  experience  had  been  of  much  use 
to  her.  She  had  seen  good  things  lying  be- 
yond the  pale  of  the  church  of  which  she  was 
a  member,  and  had  been  candid  enough  to 


36  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

confess  that  the  good,  wherever  found,  was 
not  to  be  despised. 

Ruth  had  never  mentioned  to  any  one  the 
partial  conflict  that  had  been  going  on  in  her 
mind,  excited  by  the  heretical  principles  of 
the  despised  and  persecuted  Quakers.  John, 
who  had  been  present  with  her  at  the  meeting 
in  the  wood,  had  more  than  suspected  the  in- 
fluence of  what  they  had  there  seen  and  heard 
upon  his  sister's  susceptible  nature,  but  since 
that  day  he  had  never  spoken  to  her  upon  the 
subject,  perhaps  fearing  that  any  words  from 
him,  by  indicating  to  her  that  he  too  was 
pondering  the  question,  would  encourage  her 
to  pursue  to  the  end  the  thoughts  that  were 
agitating  her  mind.  It  would  have  been  vain 
for  Ruth  to  expect  sympathy  from  him,  or  in- 
deed from  any  member  of  the  family.  She 
knew  the  bitterness  with  which  Mr.  Hathorne 
regarded  those  who  held  the  proscribed  doc- 
trines, and  that  she  could  not  have  aimed  a 
severer  blow  at  her  beloved  father's  happiness 
than  to  bring  it  to  his  knowledge  that  one 
of  his  children,  and  that  one  the  elder 
daughter,  whose  love  had  occupied  for  many 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         37 

years  the  warmest  place  in  his  heart,  had  al- 
lowed herself  to  entertain  any  faith  in  those 
doctrines,  thus  making  herself  an  enemy  of 
the  church  and  therefore  his  enemy.  Even 
had  she  become  thoroughly  imbued  with  the 
principles  which  had  forced  themselves  upon 
her  consideration,  she  would  have  concealed 
with  care  from  her  father  the  knowledge  of 
the  change  in  her  faith,  for  her  filial  love 
would  have  demanded  any  sacrifice  of  her  by 
which  she  could  shield  her  father  from  pain. 
It  would  have  been  with  no  less  cost  had  she 
made  her  mother  the  confidante  of  her  thoughts. 
Between  few  mothers  and  their  children  did 
there  exist  closer  ties  of  affection  than  between 
Mrs.  Hathorne  and  her  daughters,  yet  there 
were  insuperable  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
perfect  sympathy  between  them  upon  a  sub- 
ject like  this.  Among  the  women  of  the 
church  Mrs.  Hathorne  was  what  her  husband 
was  among  the  men.  Holding  a  position  of 
high  influence,  and  using  this  influence  in 
every  way  for  the  advancement  of  the  church 
and  its  members,  she  held  a  place  in  the  hearts 
of  a  large  portion  of  the  people  which  few 


38         MASTER  HATHOKNE'S  FAMILT. 

could  ever  hope  to  reach.  The  abundance  of 
her  temporal  means  gave  her  the  power  of 
contributing  to  the  supply  of  the  wants  of  the 
poorer  class,  many  of  whom  were  in  actual 
need  in  the  rigor  of  their  New  England  home. 
By  such  persons  she  was  regarded  almost  in 
the  light  of  a  patron  saint,  to  whom  they  need 
only  look  and  straightway  their  wants,  both 
of  a  temporal  and  spiritual  nature,  would  be 
satisfied ;  for  the  good  woman  never  reached 
forth  her  hand  to  give  without  the  attendance 
upon  her  bounty  of  many  a  good  word  of 
hope  and  cheer.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  her 
position  in  the  church  was  of  an  important 
character,  and  of  its  doctrines  she  was  as 
stout  a  defender  among  her  own  sex  as  was 
her  husband  in  his  own.  Besides  this,  be- 
tween husband  and  wife  there  existed  the 
closest  intimacy  of  thought  and  feeling*  It 
would  have  been  treason  to  the  mind  of  the 
good  wife,  burdened  with  such  a  secret  as 
this  of  her  daughter's,  to  conceal  it  from 
her  husband's  knowledge.  As  Ruth  rightly 
judged,  it  would  have  been  worse  than  vain 
to  have  confided  in  her  mother,  for  it  wpuld 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         39 

not  only  have  given  her  the  greatest  pain,  but 
in  the  end  the  sorrow  would  be  fully  shared 
in  by  her  father.  Moreover,  Ruth  had  a  brave 
heart.  She  was  not  afraid  to  encounter  the 
difficulties  of  her  situation  alone,  believing 
that  the  Omniscient  would  give  her  his  aid  to 
bring  her  to  the  right  end  at  last. 

We  have  seen  how  the  conflict  in  her  mind 
had  been  decided.  For  the  time  she  had  com- 
promised. That  there  was  truth  outside  of 
her  own  church  she  was  aware,  and  that  it 
was  for  that  truth  she  thirsted  she  had  not  an 
instant's  doubt.  She  had  weighed  the  strange 
doctrine  of  the  persecuted  Quakers  in  the 
balance  and  had  found  it  wanting ;  yet  in  it 
she  had  discovered,  she  thought,  a  part  of 
that  pure  soul-truth  whose  absence  she  so 
sadly  felt.  Where  should  she  find  the  glori- 
ous whole? 


CHAPTER    III. 


PAUL   WALLINGFORD  S   VIEWS. 

|T  was  a  beautiful  sight  the  next  morn- 
ing, when  the  little  household  awoke 
and  gazed  abroad  on  the  outer  world. 
All  night  the  snow  had  fallen  ;  all  night  the 
gusty  wind  had  blown ;  and  now  the  greaf 
drifts  were  piled  against  houses  and  fences, 
trees  and  bushes,  in  a  rich  confusion  of  swell- 
ing and  glittering  white.  The  tall  trees  were 
covered  over  with  a  shining  bridal  garment. 
Every  branch  and  twig  had  its  tender  drapery 
fastened  around  it,  glistening  as  if  covered 
with  myriads  of  diamonds  that  flashed  in  the 
rays  of  the  newly-risen  sun. 

The  fall  of  snow  had  been  a  very  heavy 
one,  and  it  lay  in  such  depth  in  the  streets 
that  all  passing  was  effectually  prevented. 

40 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          41 

Against  the  doors  and  lower  windows  of  the 
dwellings  great  banks  were  piled,  and  it 
would  require  the  labor  of  lusty  arms  to 
break  away  the  barriers  and  force  communi- 
cation with  the  streets  and  neighboring  houses. 
But  they  had  not  yet  had  all  of  the  storm. 
The  rising  sun  had  but  unveiled  his  head  to 
look  for  an  hour  upon  the  little  town,  when 
again  the  clouds  closed  up  the  rent,  and  the 
white  flakes,  as  if  not  satisfied  with  the  work 
they  had  already  done,  hurriedly  chased  each 
other  earthward  through  the  murky  air.  The 
sturdy  colonists  gave  up  the  hope  of  outspeed- 
ing  the  elements  in  their  labors,  and  sat  down 
composedly  within  their  homes,  surrounded 
by  their  families,  to  enjoy  as  best  they  might 
the  repose  thus  forced  upon  them. 

Of  course  there  was  no  such  thing  possible 
as  Paul  Wallingford's  return  to  the  college 
that  day,  and  indeed,  as  it  was  Saturday  and 
there  was  very  little  need  of  his  doing  so,  the 
young  man  was  not  particularly  sorry  for  the 
circumstances  that  laid  this  obligation  upon 
him,  and  was  disposed  to  look  upon  the  storm 
as  befriending  him  in  the  most  signal  manner. 


4  * 


42  MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

John  was  only  too  glad  to  have  the  company 
of  his  friend  during  the  long  day  in-doors,  and 
found  it  very  agreeable  to  pass  the  slow-going 
hours  in  the  quiet  occupations  of  reading  and 
conversation.  It  was  a  novel  thing  for  the 
young  merchant — for  John  was  in  his  father's 
business — to  have  a  day  for  quiet  pursuits  at 
home,  and  he  was  glad  enough  to  embrace 
this  opportunity  of  pursuing  his  study  of  a 
work  in  which  he  had  become  deeply  inter 
ested,  the  letter  of  Mr.  John  Cotton  to  Roger 
Williams  and  the  latter's  examination  and  an- 
swer, copies  of  which  he  had  lately  received 
from  England.  The  two  young  men,  there- 
fore, passed  the  stormy  day  in  the  perusal  of 
their  books  and  in  animated  discussion  of  the 
topics  thus  presented  to  their  minds. 

It  was  a  busy  day  for  Ruth  and  her  mother. 
It  was  Saturday,  and  the  preparations  for  the 
morrow  were  all  to  be  completed  before  the 
going  down  of  the  sun.  All  the  morning, 
therefore,  Ruth  was  busy  in  the  kitchen  and 
chambers,  and  only  an  hour  or  two  before  the 
close  of  the  day  found  time  to  become  one  of 
the  littie  circle  in  the  front  room  of  the  house. 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          43 

When  she  entered  the  room  she  found  her 
brother  and  Paul  engaged  in  the  considera- 
tion of  a  question  suggested  by  the  reading 
of  the  former  and  bearing  immediately  on  the 
painful  events  of  the  time.  The  subject  was 
no  new  one,  even  to  Ruth,  for  it  had  been 
discussed  at  length  for  years  both  in  the  Old 
and  New  Worlds.  Many  treatises  had  been 
written  upon  it,  of  which  those  that  had  last 
appeared — the  works  of  Williams  and  Cotton 
upon  what  the  former  had  styled  "The  Bloody 
Tenet" — had  created  no  little  stir  upon  both 
sides  of  the  water. 

Ruth  drew  her  chair  to  the  side  of  her 
father's  before  the  fire,  and  while  she  applied 
herself  to  her  work  soon  became  interested  in 
the  conversation.  Mr.  Hathorne  took  no  part 
in  the  discussion,  seeming  to  be  busily  em- 
ployed over  some  mercantile  papers  that  lay 
in  his  lap  and  in  a  large  bundle  upon  the 
floor  by  his  side ;  but  Ruth  noticed  that  once 
or  twice  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair  and 
looked  up  quickly  at  the  speaker,  when  Paul 
gave  expression  to  some  opinion  of  unusual 
boldness. 


44  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

For  Paul,  as  might  be  expected  of  a  young 
man  who  had  been  reared  in  the  respect  for 
civil  and  religious  toleration  which  obtained 
in  the  Providence  Plantations,  argued  the 
right  of  man  to  think  as  he  pleased,  inde- 
pendently of  magistrate  or  churchman ;  and 
as  he  spoke  upon  a  subject  of  so  much  in- 
terest to  himself  his  eye  brightened,  his  cheek 
flushed,  and  forgetting  the  dictates  of  mere 
prudence,  he  hurried  on  with  all  the  incon- 
siderate warmth  of  youth  to  the  conviction  of 
his  opponent,  none  the  less  eager  than  he. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  follow  their  argument 
through.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  was  a  good 
close  to  their  studies  of  the  day.  The  young 
men  were  seated  upon  opposite  sides  of  the 
fireplace,  and  its  flickering  light  fell  upon 
their  earnest  faces,  bringing  out  each  trace 
of  youthful  vigor  and  manly  beauty  in  fair 
proportion.  John's  calm  blue  eyes  seemed 
ever  watchful  for  some  new  turn  of  his  nimble 
adversary,  and  he  spoke  in  measured  tones, 
weighing  each  word  carefully  and  duly  esti- 
mating its  value  in  the  debate.  Paul,  on  the 
contrary,  was  quick  and  impulsive.  His  eye, 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  45 

seeming  to  dart  forth  conviction  from  its  black 
depths,  was  itself  an  enemy  hard  to  encounter. 
His  attacks  were  from  a  well-fortified  position, 
and  his  defences  so  ably  sustained  that  his  op- 
ponent more  than  once  began  to  grow  uneasy 
for  the  success  of  his  cause. 

Ruth  became  intensely  interested.  Uncon- 
sciously, the  young  men  were  debating  a  point 
over  which,  led  by  her  thoughts  upon  the  suf- 
ferings of  that  sect  whose  doctrine  had  made 
such  an  impression  on  her  mind,  she  had 
pondered  in  perplexity,  but  had  at  last  ar- 
rived at  a  firmly-fixed  conclusion.  Would 
this  conclusion  stand  the  test  of  this  debate? 
She  waited  the  result  with  almost  feverish 
anxiety.  More  than  once  did  her  lips  part  as 
if  about  to  suggest  some  new  thought  in  aid 
of  her  champion,  but  it  would  have  ill  become 
the  modesty  of  the  Puritan  maiden  to  allow 
her  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  strife  between  the 
young  men.  Ruth  would  have  been  startled 
had  she  heard  the  sound  of  her  own  voice 
pleading  with  Paul  Wallingford,  and  even  her 
own  eagerness  called  up  a  faint  flush  to  her 
cheek.  She  was  not  bold,  she  was  not  over 


46         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

desirous  of  partaking  in  pursuits  unseemly  in 
her  sex,  but  her  soul  was  stirred,  and  burned 
with  a  longing  for  truth  that  would  be  satis- 
fied. 

But  Paul  Wallingford  needed  no  assistance. 
He  was  standing  upon  firm  ground — ground 
that  he  knew  perfectly  well — so  his  confidence 
in  his  position  was  unshaken  by'  any  attack 
of  his  adversary.  Gradually  his  warmth  in- 
creased, and  his  enthusiasm  began  to  bear 
him  steadily  onward  to  victory.  He  saw  the 
end  coming ;  his  eyes  already  flashed  triumph- 
antly as  he  saw  the  spoils  of  the  conqueror 
lying  before  him. 

"  Ah,  John,"  he  cried  springing  to  his  feet, 
throwing  back  the  wavy  hair  from  his  broad, 
bold  brow,  ' '  you  have  your  antiquity  to  boast 
of,  your  experience  in  governments  of  centu- 
ries* duration  ;  you  have  your  great  minds  of 
the  past — minds  so  great  that  they  feared  a 
fall  from  such  a  height,  stumbling  over  this 
little  block  of  offence ;  you  can  name  with 
pride  the  labors  of  your  Cottons ;  but  I  thank 
God,  none  of  these  are  my  defence  !  I  have 
no  higher  argument  than  this :  I  point  you 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         47 

only  to  that  grand,  sublime  man,  Roger 
Williams ;  I  bid  you  look  at  his  disinterested 
labors,  his  dreadful  sufferings  both  of  the 
body  and  spirit,  his  utter  fearlessness  in  his 
championship  of  the  right ;  and,  last  of  all,  I 
charge  you  to  regard  his  glorious  success, 
Who  shall  dare  to  say  that  the  hitherto 
despised  Providence  Plantations  have  not 
more  than  held  their  own  among  the  colonies 
of  America?  You  say  you  send  to  us  the 
flagitious  spirits  you  cannot  brook  within 
your  own  bounds.  You  say  our  Providence 
is  your  great  prison,  your  place  of  punish- 
ment for  your  malefactors.  Send  them  to 
us.  We  thank  you  for  them.  Your  male- 
factors are  those  who  cannot  stand  upon 
your  soil  and  call  themselves  free  men ;  they 
feel  the  yoke  of  your  narrow  prejudices  and 
the  binding  weariness  of  your  conscience 
fetters,  and  when  they  dare  to  raise  the  voice 
in  expostulation,  when  they  would  ease  the 
chafing  of  their  bonds  by  declaring  their 
manhood  and  their  manhood's  faith,  you 
scourge  them,  malefactors  indeed,  and  cast 
them  out  to  us.  Now  see  these  men,  for 


0          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

they  are  men  with  us.  No  brawls  of  religious 
factions  threaten  the  life  of  our  little  state, 
Her  simple  covenant,  subscribed  by  your 
malefactors,  remains  intact ;  and  though  civil 
strife  may  come,  for  we  know  not  what  God 
hath  in  store  for  us ;  though  our  government 
may  be  disturbed  and  rent,  as  others  have 
been  before,  the  one  grand  principle  that 
stands  at  the  foundation  of  all  will  still  re- 
main unmoved.  That  truth,  shining  like 
the  star  of  old  when  the  angels  sang  their 
hymns  of  joy  at  the  incarnation  of  Divine 
Love,  proclaims  to-day,  and  will  proclaim 
as  long  as  time  shall  last,  the  same  benedic- 
tion :  '  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men.'" 

As  if  his  soul  were  raised  above  the  earth 
upon  the  eagle  wing  of  his  faith,  his  eye 
gazing  fixedly  at  the  dull  gray  sky  as  see- 
ing in  prophetic  vision  the  verification  of  his 
words  in  these  latter  days,  he  stood  before 
them  for  a  moment  unconscious,  unmoved. 
In  that  instant  the  storm-clouds  parted,  the 
setting  sun,  as  at  his  rising,  shone  again,  and 
a  flood  of  golden  light  poured  into  the  little 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         49 

room  and  wrapped  about  the  young  man's 
form  a  mantle  of  glory.  It  was  as  if  the 
approval  of  heaven  were  manifested,  as  when 
the  "  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round  about." 

Ruth  heard  and  drank  in  all.  The  argu- 
ment was  done ;  the  others  passed  to  the 
windows  to  admire  the  brilliant  spectacle  dis- 
played upon  the  face  of  nature,  but  she  sat 
still,  not  yet  aroused  from  her  contemplation 
of  that  divine  truth  that  had  been  the  theme 
of  what  she  had  heard.  Paul  was  no  longer 
before  her ;  he  had  gone  with  the  others  and 
was  pointing  out  to  Willie,  who  sat  upon  his 
knee,  the  wonderful  caps  of  snow  on  every 
post  and  rail ;  but  unconsciously  her  eyes 
rested  still  upon  his  face,  as  his  eloquent 
words  still  remained  impressed  upon  her 
mind.  Her  mother's  voice  called  her  from 
the  hall.  As  she  rose  to  obey  the  summons, 
she  met  her  father's  glance  fixed  upon  her 
face.  Why  was  it  that  instantly  the  long 
lashes  dropped  over  her  eyes  and  the  rose 
hue  sprang  to  her  cheek?  She  could  not 
have  told. 

The  Lord's  Day  dawned  beautiful  and  clear. 
6  D 


5"         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

The  frosty  air  was  filled  with  that  peculiar, 
life-giving  freshness  which  a  winter  morning 
among  the  hills  of  New  England  can  alone 
give  to  the  atmosphere ;  the  white  covering 
of  the  earth  shone  brightly  in  the  sun ;  the 
long  icicles  hung  from  the  eaves  of  the  dwell- 
ings, forming  a  fairy  fringe  to  the  low,  quaint 
roofs ;  and  ever  and  anon  great  clouds  of  the 
finest  snow  would  whirl  aloft  far  above  the 
roof-trees,  borne  upon  the  wings  of  the  sea- 
breeze,  and  spreading  out  into  the  most  fra- 
gile veils  of  gauze  would  settle  noiselessly 
down  upon  the  still  streets. 

Long  before  the  storm  had  spent  its  fury 
men  had  been  out,  breaking  a  way  through 
the  principal  streets  to  the  meeting-house,  so 
that  when  the  time  for  the  service  arrived  even 
the  frail  forms  of  women,  wrapped  up  warmly 
in  their  cloaks  and  furs,  braved  the  loose  snow 
and  keen  wind,  and  wended  their  way  to  the 
sanctuary. 

Mr.  Hathorne's  family  were  not  missing 
from  their  accustomed  seat — he  himself, 
sterner,  graver,  even  than  usual ;  his  wife 
with  her  calm,  devout  face,  eagerly  expect- 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         51 

ant  of  the  spiritual  refreshment  to  be  afforded 
her  soul  in  the  two  short  hours  she  should 
pass  in  the  temple  of  God ;  and  between  them 
their  children,  John  beside  his  father;' Ruth — 
her  beautiful  countenance  more  lovely  from 
contrast  with  the  hood  of  dark  stuff  which 
she  wore — sitting  just  opposite  upon  her 
mother's  side  of  the  aisle,  with  fair  Grace 
beside  her  and  Willie  next.  The  house  was 
a  very  plain  one  in  which  these  sturdy  Pu- 
ritans worshiped  God.  It  was  a  square 
building,  the  roof  rising  to  a  point  in  the 
centre,  the  rough  beams  which  supported  it 
being  left  exposed  to  view.  There  was  no 
trace  of  an  attempt  at  elegance  or  even  come- 
liness in  the  whole  structure,  save  perhaps  the 
crimson  curtain  and  cushion  of  the  pulpit  and 
the  canopy  above  the  seat  of  the  governor. 
The  pews  were  little  more  than  rude  benches 
of  common  pine,  without  cushions,  and  the 
floor  was  covered  only  with  sand  strewn  in 
the  aisle.  Not  a  trace  of  paint  was  to  be 
seen  upon  the  whole  structure  within  or  with- 
out, and  the  only  coloring  it  had,  a  rich,  deep 
shade  of  brown,  was  imparted  to  it  by  the  ac- 


5*         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

tion  of  the  elements.  Up9n  the  pulpit,  with- 
in reach  of  the  hand  of  one  of  the  elders, 
whose  seats  were  in  front  of  the  pulpit  facing 
the  audience,  stood  an  hour-glass,  whose 
shining  sand  was  oftentimes  allowed  to  empty 
itself  into  the  lower  compartment  more  than 
twice  before  the  services  were  completed. 
Rank  and  distinction  were  observed,  more 
than  the  division  of  the  congregation  into 
families,  in  the  assignment  of  the  seats  to  the 
audience,  and  the  right  side  of  the  house  was 
reserved  for  the  male  sex,  the  left  for  the 
gentler  portion  of  the  assembly.  The  chil- 
dren were  usually  placed  under  the  care  of 
persons  appointed  for  the  purpose  in  seats  by 
themselves,  and  every  appearance  of  uneasi- 
ness or  irregularity  was  promptly  rebuked  by 
these  watchful  guardians  of  the  church  peace. 
If  it  be  remembered  that  religion  was  the 
one  great  end  for  which  these  Puritan  pilgrims 
had  severed  themselves  from  their  European 
homes ;  that  it  was  the  only  solace  of  their 
lives,  the  chief  pleasure  and  comfort  of  their 
desert  dwelling-place ;  and  that,  therefore, 
every  one  looked  forward  to  the  Lord's  Day 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.         53 

as  to  the  coming  of  a  sacred  feast  of  good 
things, — a  better  idea  may  be  gained  of  the  as- 
semblage that  came  together  weekly  for  the 
worship  of  God.  This  rude  wooden  building 
was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity.  The  gover- 
nor was  escorted  hither  by  his  halberdiers  and 
established  beneath  the  canopy  of  state ;  the 
magistrates  and  those  of  the  highest  rank 
came  next  in  order ;  then  the  rich  and  influ- 
ential members  of  the  church ;  and  farther 
back  from  the  pulpit  and  around  the  walls 
were  seated  the  poorer  class  and  the  servants. 
The  high  and  low,  the  rich  and  poor,  the  former 
often  dressed  in  costly  robes  of  silk  and  velvet, 
in  lace  ruffs  and  delicately  wrought  wide  col- 
lars, and  the  latter  in  their  rude  leathern  gar- 
ments, all  flocked  to  the  sanctuary  eager  for 
the  words  of  divine  cheer  they  knew  to  be 
awaiting  them. 

Mr.  Hathorne's  family  was  among  the 
wealthiest  of  the  congregation,  and  he  per- 
haps the  most  influential  of  the  laymen ; 
therefore,  his  seat  was  in  a  conspicuous 
position,  where  the  pious  occupant  could  find 

no  difficulty  in  hearing  or  seeing,  and  where 

&* 


54          MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAM1LT. 

he  could  as  easily  be  seen  by  all  as  an  ex- 

* 

ample  of  godliness  worthy  of  the  utmost 
veneration. 

Upon  this  particular  occasion  there  was 
to  be  a  baptism  of  children  after  the  close  of 
the  sermon.  The  aged  Wilson  preached 
appropriately,  taking  for  his  text  the  familiar 
passage  in  which  the  loving  Lord  blesseth 
little  children  and  declareth  to  men  the  king- 
dom which  awaits  them. 

Slowly  the  old  man  spoke,  with  tones  of 
loving  reverence  describing  the  deep  signifi- 
cance of  Christ's  act.  Eagerly  the  hearers 
listened  to  his  words,  which  were  fraught  with 
argument  to  satisfy  the  minds  of  the  deeply 
learned,  and  yet  were  simple  and  plain  enough 
to  rivet  the  attention  of  young  children.  It 
was  the  friend  of  all  who  was  speaking,  and 
the  affection  existing  between  him  and  each 
member  of  his  charge  rendered  his  words  of 
greater  effect  and  more  exalted  beauty.  His 
arguments  were  elaborate  and  his  conclusions 
apparently  justly  drawn,  and  the  firm -set  lips 
of  the  stern  Puritan  fathers  were  pressed  closer 
together  as  their  convictions  were  thus  ably  de- 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         55 

fended,  and  new  vigor  was  given  to  the  roots 
of  the  faith  spreading  throughout  the  fertile 
soil  of  their  hearts.  Mr.  Wilson  did  not  suffer 
the  occasion  to  pass  without  a  violent  attack 
upon  the  opponents  of  the  doctrines  of  the 
church,  particularly  of  the  one  which  was 
the  subject  of  the  morning's  discourse.  It 
would  have  been  a  dark  blot  upon  the  pious 
teacher's  conscience  had  he  neglected  so 
important  a  duty  in  those  degenerate  days, 
when  he  had  marked  with  pain  the  indica- 
tions of  heresy  upon  this  point  becoming  more 
frequent  every  day.  As  he  had  entered  the 
church  that  morning,  he  had  noticed  the 
young  man,  of  whom  he  had  heard  evil 
tidings — which  he  had  communicated,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  Mr.  Hathorne — seated  in  a 
humble  position  near  the  door.  With  com- 
passion he  looked  upon  Paul  Wallingford — 
with  compassion  for  his  weakness,  for  his 
inability  to  resist  evil,  for  the  error  that  he 
feared  was  creeping  into  his  heart  to  choke 
with  its  tares  the  beautiful  ripening  wheat 
of  truth.  He  had  inwardly  repeated  the 
young  man's  name,  while  he  had  prayed 


56         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

for  divine  mercy  upon  the  youthful  and  head- 
strong, that  they  who  were  going  astray 
might  be  recalled ;  and  now,  as  his  solemn 
voice  thundered  forth  the  violent  denunciation 
of  the  deadly  sin  of  departure  from  holy 
truth,  his  eye  sought  out  the  glance  of  the 
attentive  youth,  and  tried  to  read  in  it  the 
index  of  his  soul.  But  Paul's  steadfast  look 
was  unmoved ;  no  consciousness  of  guilt  had 
an  abiding-place  in  his  heart,  and  fearlessly 
he  listened  to  the  piercing  words  that  were 
meant  to  bring  the  rebel  to  submission. 

The  sermon  ended  and  the  benediction  pro- 
nounced, again  the  narrow  streets  were  filled 
with  the  congregation  returning  to  their 
homes.  Mr.  Hathorne  made  no  remark 
during  the  noon  meal,  but  listened  attentive- 
ly to  the  conversation  sustained  between  his 
son  and  their  guest,  who  as  usual  found  many 
a  point  suggested  by  the  discourse  upon  which 
to  differ.  At  last,  as  the  family  were  rising 
from  the  table,  Mr.  Hathorne  spoke. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  "our  faith,  praise  God  I 
needs  no  better  defence  than  that  it  has  re- 
ceived this  morning.  If  there  was  one  present 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         57 

who  was  not  prepared  to  acknowledge  the 
truth,  his  eyes  must  have  been  dazzled  by  the 
bright  light  of  argument  exhibited  by  our  be- 
loved teacher.  No  such  heresy  as  that  which 
denies  the  baptism  of  innocent  babes — babes 
that  the  Saviour  received — could  stand  before 
that  blaze,  but  could  only  wither  away." 

Paul's  keen  eye  flashed.  He  felt  that  Mr. 
Hathorne  was  speaking  to  his  son,  but  at 
himself.  His  lips  quivered  and  his  voice 
trembled  as  he  answered  with  suppressed 
emotion : 

"  '  Believe,  and  be  baptized.'  There  was 
one  present,  sir,  who  does  not  assent  to  your 
doctrines,  who  was  not  terrified  by  the  scorch- 
ing words  of  your  preacher.  God  bless  those 
who  are  in  the  right !  God  bless  even  the 
Baptist  heretics,  if  their  doctrines  are  his  1" 

This  was  all,  but  it  was  enough.  In  one 
instant  Paul  Wallingford  had  made  himself 
an  enemy.  From  this  hour  he  was  to  be 
watched  and  shunned  as  a  venomous  serpent. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   WRECKED    BOAT. 

fjITH  the  going  down  of  the  sun  the 
sacred  day  of  the  Puritans  ended.  Paul 
Wallingford  must  take  his  departure 
for  an  absence  of  a  week  from  the  household 
he  so  dearly  loved,  from  his  only  home  in  the 
Colony  of  the  Bay.  There  were  no  hand- 
shakings at  parting — that  would  have  been 
too  demonstrative  of  affection  for  the  Puritan 
taste — only  a  spoken  ' '  good-bye  "  and  a  slight 
bow,  and  friends  might  part  for  months,  and 
that,  too,  when  no  means  of  communication 
could  exist  between  them  in  the  interval  of 
absence. 

Paul  hurried  away  over  the  brow  of 
Beacon  Hill  and  down  the  western  slope  to 
the  river-side.  It  seemed  likely  that  he  would 
have  another  hard  passage,  for  during  the 

68 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT,  59 

afternoon  the  wind  had  been  steadily  rising, 
and  it  now  blew  in  gusts,  whipping  the  waves 
of  the  broad  Charles  into  foam.  He  sum- 
moned the  old  ferry-man  whom  he  always 
employed  in  crossing,  and  who  was  expect- 
ing his  coming  as  usual  after  the  setting  of 
the  sun. 

"A  hard  row  we  shall  have  of  it,"  Paul 
said,  cheerily,  greeting  the  old  man. 

"A  clear  night,  but  the  wind  is  dead 
ahead,"  answered  the  boatman  as  he  took 
his  hat  from  his  head  and  wound  a  dark 
cloth  about  it,  confining  his  hair.  "  We 
shall  have  a  long  pull  and  a  cold  one." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  water  dripping  from 
his  oars  was  freezing  into  tiny  icicles,  that 
glistened  in  the  light  of  the  rising  moon.  His 
boat,  a  large  and  heavy  one,  seemed  able  to 
buffet  any  storm,  but  its  very  weight  was  an 
impediment  to  progress  when  the  sea  was 
rough,  and  it  was  more  than  one  man's  labor 
to  keep  the  boat  from  drifting  before  the  wind. 
To-night  the  old  man  did  not  dare  to  raise  the 
sail ;  and  indeed,  had  the  gale  not  capsized 
the  craft,  it  would  have  rent  the  canvas  into 


60  MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

shreds.  Paul  thought  the  old  man  seemed  a 
little  loth  to  put  off  on  such  a  night,  but  as 
he  was  anxious  to  begin  his  studies  again  in 
the  morning,  he  took  no  notice  of  his  reluct- 
ance. If  they  could  only  get  across,  there 
would  be  no  danger  in  the  old  man's  return- 
ing alone,  for  he  would  need  to  do  little  else 
than  keep  his  boat  before  the  wind  in  order 
to  reach  his  destination. 

Old  James  received  his  passenger  without 
objection,  however,  and  they  commenced 
their  voyage. 

"  You'll  find  the  old  boat  heavier  than  the 
one  you  came  in,"  said  he  to  Paul  as  the 
young  man  took  an  oar.  "The  small  boat 
wouldn't  live  a  minute  in  this  sea.  Are  you 
ready,  sir?  Give  way  !"  And  slowly  they 
drew  away  from  the  shore,  out  upon  the  dark, 
white-capped  waters. 

Not  a  cloud  floated  in  the  atmosphere  to  ob- 
scure the  light  that  fell  upon  the  snow-covered 
hills  which  bordered  the  stream.  The  full 
moon  and  myriads  of  stars  cast  their  cold 
beams  upon  the  colder  earth  below,  illuminat- 
ing its  glittering  garment  with  the  sparkling 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FA  MILT.         61 

of  a  mine  of  jewels.     In  spite  of  the  severe 
labor  that  taxed  every  muscle  to  the  utmost, 
Paul  could  not  help  admiring  the  scene  of 
which  he  was  the  centre.     Just  astern  of  their 
boat  the  slope  of  Beacon  Hill,  its  foot  and  the 
adjacent  shore  partially  shaded  as  yet,   rose 
white   and   silent.     On    his   right   the   shore 
trended   away  to   the   southward,    leaving   a 
wide   sheet   of   water,   whose   snowy   waves 
were  only  bounded  by  the  low  neck  of  land 
uniting  Boston  with  the  main  land,  and  on 
which  the  surf  fell  with  an  unbroken  roar. 
Beyond    and    behind    him   were   the   wood- 
covered  hills  of  Roxbury  and  the  rich  graz- 
ing lands  of  Brookline,  then  called  Muddy 
River ;  while  a  little  farther  to  his  left,  and 
still  behind  him,  lay  the  slightly  rising  ground 
of  Cambridge,  yet  separated  from  him  by  a 
weary  waste  of  water  and  meadowy  plain. 
Upon  his  left  the  black  waves  were  all  that 
met  his  sight,  their  tops  now  and  then  casting 
their  deep  foam-fringe  up  into  the  moonlight, 
as  if  striving  to  rival  the  white  purity  of  the 
surrounding  shores,  and  then,  after  their  glory 
of  a  moment,  sinking  back  again  into  their 


62          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

black  obscurity.  Now  and  then,  perhaps,  a 
faint  light  would  twinkle  out  upon  the  dark-- 
ness for  an  instant  from  the  direction  of  far- 
off  Charlestown,  but  its  gleaming  was  soon 
swallowed  up  in  the  distance. 

Harder  and  harder  yet  blew  the  wind  as 
they  labored  at  the  oars  and  advanced  slowly 
out  into  the  midst  of  the  stream.  Tossed 
hither  and  thither,  sometimes  exerting  all  their 
powers  merely  to  hold  the  position  they  had 
gained  and  to  keep  their  direction,  sometimes, 
in  a  momentary  lull,  creeping  onward  at  a 
snail's  pace,  only  a  few  inches  to  a  stroke, 
their  task  became  continually  more  discourag- 
ing and  hopeless.  Visions  of  the  bright  fire- 
side he  had  left  began  to  creep  in  upon  Paul's 
mind.  He  saw  the  glowing  logs  piled  high 
and  lighting  up  the  happy  group  assembled 
before  them.  He  almost  wished  himself  back 
again  in  their  midst  conversing  with  John 
and — and — gathering  inspiration  from  the 
dark  eyes  of  an  attentive  listener,  aiding  him 
in  his  argument  more  than  she  knew  by  her 
presence  and  interest.  Perhaps  they  were 
speaking  of  him  now.  Perhaps  as  Mr. 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         63 

Hathorne  was  condemning  his  bravely- 
spoken  principles,  John,  the  staunch  old 
friend,  was  defending  him,  and  Grace  and — 
He  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  caught  him- 
self so  busy  upon  anything  but  the  work  of 
the  hour,  though  his  wearied  arms  had  never 
flagged  in  their  labor  and  his  steady,  un- 
heeded strokes  had  been  so  vigorous  as  to 
pull  the  old  man  round  and  considerably  alter 
their  course.  A  word  from  his  companion 
recalled  him  to  his  work,  and,  ashamed  of  his 
negligence,  he  resolved  to  dream  no  more. 
But  it  was  hard  work ;  his  arms  began  to  be 
oh  so  weary,  now  that  he  thought  of  them. 
"Surely,"  after  a  five  minutes'  silence  and 
straining  work,  "Mr.  Hathorne  and  John — " 

"I  haven't  the  strength  I  used  to  have," 
panted  old  James,  falling  forward,  almost  ex- 
hausted, upon  his  oar.  "  I  cannot  do  it,  sir  ! 
We  must  go  back  !" 

They  had  rowed  perhaps  a  mile.  Paul 
could  not  object  to  turning  and  retracing  theii 
course.  He  was  only  sorry  to  have  fatigued 
his  companion  so  fruitlessly.  It  was  well  they 
stopped  as  they  did,  for  at  the  moment  the 


64         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

blast  seemed  to  redouble  its  fury,  and  it  was 
evident  to  both  that  they  could  have  made  no 
farther  headway. 

Paul  bent  to  his  oar ;  a  few  vigorous  strokes 
would  put  them  about,  when  all  the  rest  would 
be  easy. 

There  came  a  quick,  sharp  crack.  Old 
James'  heart  sank  within  him.  Paul's  oar 
had  snapped  in  twain,  and  already  the  blade 
was  far  behind  them  on  the  water.  Quickly 
as  the  tossing  of  the  boat  would  allow,  the 
old  man  sprang  to  the  stern  and  running  his 
oar  into  the  water  brought  the  boat  before  the 
wind.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  now 
but  this.  They  might  succeed  in  effecting  a 
landing  at  some  spot  where  a  sandy  beach 
would  receive  them  without  harm,  but  woe 
betide  them  if  their  lot  should  be  the  rocks  ! 
Old  James  knew  this.  There  were  beaches 
enough  on  the  outer  side  of  the  peninsula ; 
here  he  only  knew  of  one  or  two,  and  these 
so  very  small  it  would  be  a  hopeless  task  to 
direct  the  boat  thither  in  the  dark. 

Paul  had  not  spoken.  As  his  companion 
had  passed  to  the  stern,  he  had  sprung  to  the 


Master  Hathorne's  Family. 


Page  64. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          65 

bow,  comprehending  at  once  the  danger,  and 
ready  to  perform  his  part  in  meeting  it. 

Thus  in  silence  they  sped  onward  through 
the  night,  the  old  man  standing  upright  in 
the  stern,  wielding  his  oar  with  despairing 
energy ;  the  young  man  kneeling  in  the  bow, 
straining  his  gaze  to  pierce  the  darkness  and 
read  the  mystery  of  the  still  shadowy  shore. 
Was  the  dark  river  to  be  the  river  of  death  to 
them?  Was  their  boat  to  be  indeed,  as  it 
seemed  to  be  in  the  pale  light,  the  bark  of 
Charon?  And  the  shore — what  of  the  shore, 
where  their  swift  course  should  end?  God 
help  them  ! 

Only  a  few  short  moments  could  now  pass 
before  their  fate  should  be  decided.  Already 
they  knew  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  the 
usual  landing-place,  for  the  dashing  of  the  ice 
ahead  told  them  of  the  dangers  that  awaited 
them.  The  old  boatman  redoubled  his  exer- 
tions to  force  the  boat's  head  toward  the  low 
strip  of  sand  whence  they  had  begun  their 
journey,  but  superhuman  strength  alone 
could  make  sufficient  headway  to  overcome 
the  effects  of  the  drift.  Nearer,  nearer,  ever 

6*  £ 


66  MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

nearer,  the  ice  and  rocks !  At  last,  when 
there  was  no  hope  longer  of  creeping  nearer 
the  shelving  beach,  old  James  cast  his  weight 
upon  the  oar,  turning  the  boat's  head  suddenly 
upon  the  coast,  and  ceased  longer  to  exert 
either  strength  or  skill,  save  what  was  re- 
quired to  keep  the  boat's  bow  steady  that  she 
might  strike,  as  he  said,  "  bows  on." 

Paul  stepped  back  from  his  position  and 
took  his  seat  upon  a  thwart.  His  lips  were 
firmly  compressed ;  his  face  was  pale  in  the 
moonlight ;  his  heart  beat  quickly  within  his 
bosom. 

A  sudden  dash  of  spray  blinded  him,  and 
like  a  war-horse  leaping  to  the  charge  the 
boat  sprang  forward  upon  the  rocks.  Both 
men  were  cast  upon  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
from  the  violence  of  the  shock.  The  grind- 
ing masses  of  ice  closed  in  upon  the  fated 
boat ;  the  timbers  groaned  and  cracked ;  there 
came  another  deadly  crash  and  a  quick,  loud 
cry  for  help,  and  Paul  remembered  nothing 
more. 

That  night  a  messenger  awoke  the  inmates 
of  Mr.  Hathorne's  house,  just  as  the  midnight 


MASTER  HATHORNE' S  FAMILY.         67 

hour  had  passed  away.  A  few  hurried  words 
were  interchanged  between  the  man  who  had 
knocked  and  Hathorne,  and  the  latter  hasten- 
ed with  hushed  footstep  to  John's  chamber. 
Ruth  could  not  distinguish  the  low  words 
spoken  by  the  messenger  to  her  father  at  the 
window,  but  she  heard  him  pass  her  door  and 
awake  her  brother.  The  few  minutes  of 
silence  that  followed  were  to  her  an  age, 
and  when  she  heard  them  both  leave  the 
house  together,  she  arose  from  the  side  of  the 
sleeping  Grace  and  sought  her  mother's  room. 
She  was  disappointed.  Mr.  Hathorne  had 
only  said  there  had  been  an  accident  and 
he  was  needed.  Stilling  her  fearing  heart, 
Ruth  went  back  again  to  Grace,  to  lie  awake 
and  toss  uneasily  upon  her  bed  until  the 
dawn. 

Then  Mr.  Hathorne  came  home,  his  face 
graver  than  ever,  his  eye  no  longer  seeking 
his  daughter's,  whose  glance  eagerly  inter- 
rogated his  face  as  she  met  him  at  the  door. 

"  Ruth,"  he  said,  "  wrap  yourself  up 
warmly  and  come  with  me.  Ask  mother 
for  the  strongest  brandy  she  can  find,  and 


68         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

bring  it  with  you.  Never  mind  now,"  he 
continued  as  he  saw  her  alarmed,  inquir- 
ing glance;  "I  will  tell  you  as  we  go,  but 
hurry  and  get  ready.  John  is  waiting  for 
us." 

Poor,  trembling  maiden  !  would  her  limbs 
fail  ere  she  completed  her  preparations?  She 
tried  to  encourage  her  doubting  heart;  be- 
sides, her  pride  must  sustain  her.  No  one, 
her  father,  John,  must  see  the  trepidation  of 
her  poor  little  heart ;  it  would  have  revealed  to 
them  what  she  had  not  yet  dared  to  confess  to 
herself. 

Out  into  the  cold  morning  air,  facing  the 
bleak  wind  that  still  blew  with  violence,  the 
father  and  daughter  hastened  away  upon 
their  errand.  He  led  her  straight  up  over 
Beacon  Hill  and  down  to  the  river's  bank. 
Her  heart  sank  within  her  as  she  saw  the 
direction  he  was  taking,  but  she  steeled  her 
mind  to  listen  to  the  account  he  was  giving 
her  of  the  nature  of  their  mission. 

The  boat  had  gone  ashore  at  a  point  half 
a  mile  below  the  landing-place,  upon  a  little 
point  that  formed  the  northern  side  of  a  cove 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.          69 

in  which  a  fisherman's  hut  was  situated.  Old 
James  had  recognized  the  location,  and  just 
as  the  boat  struck  had  caught  the  friendly 
gleam  of  the  light  from  the  window  of  the 
humble  dwelling;  his  quick,  loud  cry  for 
help  had  been  heard  and  speedily  answered 
by  his  fellow-craftsman,  but  it  was  too  late 
for  human  aid  to  save  them  from  the  waves. 
In  an  instant  the  poor  boat  had  been  shivered 
on  the  ice  and  rocks,  and  her  burden  given  to 
the  sea.  The  old  fisherman  had  clung  con- 
vulsively to  the  oar,  which  he  still  held,  as  the 
icy  waters  closed  over  him,  and  thus  he  was 
cast  upon  the  shore  almost  as  his  preserver 
reached  the  spot.  Stunned  and  bleeding,  he 
was  quickly  borne  to  the  warm  hut  and 
placed  before  the  fire.  The  genial  heat  re- 
called his  faculties ;  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
gazed  quickly  around,  and  instantly  re- 
membering, he  started  to  his  feet  to  hurry 
again  to  the  shore.  He  sank  back  exhausted 
by  the  motion,  but  he  waved  his  friend  im- 
patiently away,  speaking  only  the  name  of 
him  who  had  been  his  passenger  and  com- 
panion. 


70         MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILT. 

Fruitless  had  been  the  search  for  nearly  an 
hour's  time,  when,  just  as  he  was  turning  away 
to  retrace  his  steps,  the  fisherman  saw  the 
gleam  of  moonlight  upon  a  white,  upturned 
face.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  hasten 
to  the  rock  where  it  lay  at  some  distance  from 
the  water,  and  disengage  the  prostrate  form 
from  the  broken  ice  and  fragments  of  wood 
that  partially  imprisoned  it.  It  was  found 
that  the  bow  post  and  a  part  of  the  planks 
secured  to  it  had  remained  undisturbed,  and 
caught  in  this  and  there  held  by  the  entangle- 
ment of  a  rope,  the  body  of  the  young  man 
had  been  preserved  from  a  watery  grave  and 
driven  upon  the  land.  Still,  the  protection 
had  not  been  such  as  to  shield  the  form  from 
contact  with  the  rocks  and  ice.  Bruised  and 
torn  and  bleeding,  with  no  sense  nor  move- 
ment, Paul  lay  before  the  fire  the  long  night 
through,  making  no  sign  of  life. 

There  Ruth  found  him.  His  eyes  closed, 
his  black  hair,  wet  from  the  icy  waves,  matted 
back  from  his  forehead,  his  lips  still  firm  as  in 
the  instant  of  peril,  his  poor  hands  hanging 
helplessly  at  his  side  as  if  the  life-blood  no 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  71 

longer  pulsed  in  their  veins, — ah  !  it  was  a 
fearful  sight  for  those  dark  maiden  eyes  to 
meet !  She  did  not  murmur,  did  not  sob  nor 
weep,  while  she  knew  her  poor  heart  was 
breaking  within  her  as  she  gazed.  Nobly, 
with  heroic  fortitude,  she  devoted  her  whole 
mind  to  the  task  before  her — the  task,  she  felt, 
that  Heaven  had  set  for  her. 

Slowly,  slowly  came  back  the  life  to  the 
poor  body.  The  eyes  unclosed,  then  slept 
again.  The  pale  lips  parted,  smiled,  as  if 
the  returning  spirit  would  fain  impart  to  the 
body  some  tithe  of  the  beauty  of  which  it  had 
caught  a  faint,  faint  gleam.  God  had  saved 
this  life,  rewarding  the  efforts  and  answering 
the  prayers — God  had  saved  this  life,  this 
young  life.  Should  it  not  now  be  consecrated 
unto  him,  that  it  might  prove  his  merciful 
design  not  to  have  been  in  vain  ?  Paul  Wal- 
lingford  lived.  Ruth  prayed  that  his  life 
might  be  spared  for  the  service  of  the  Lord, 
for  the  eternal  love  of  Jesus  Christ. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   ANXIOUS   INQUIRER. 

WO  days  passed  before  Paul  Walling- 
ford  was  able  to  leave  the  hospitable 
roof  of  the  fisherman  for  that  of  his 
friends.  His  strong  constitution  had  proved 
itself  able  to  resist  the  heavy  pressure  brought 
to  bear  upon  it ;  and  the  fearful  exposure  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected  did  not  result, 
as  it  was  feared,  in  a  prolonged  fever.  Upon 
the  third  day,  then,  wrapped  warmly  in  shawls 
and  cloaks,  and  resting  as  comfortably  as  pos- 
sible upon  a  bed  of  pillows,  he  was  transferred 
in  Mr.  Hathorne's  family-carriage,  placed  for 
the  occasion  upon  a  sledge,  to  the  home  he 
had  left  in  the  height  of  proud  health  and 
happiness. 

Every  motion  was  attended  with  great  pain, 
and  his  removal  occasioned  much  more  ex- 

72 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.         73 

haustion  than  he  had  anticipated.  It  was 
therefore  of  great  service  to  him  that  soon 
after  his  arrival  and  establishment  in  a  warm, 
soft  bed,  he  fell  into  a  sweet  sleep,  from  which 
in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  he  awoke  much 
refreshed.  Every  care  and  attention  was 
shown  the  invalid  by  the  inmates  of  the 
dwelling ;  Mr.  Hathorne  came  every  day  to 
his  room  to  inquire  in  person  for  his  improve- 
ment, and  his  wife  was  indefatigable  in  her 
efforts  for  the  supply  of  every  comfort  and 
for  the  speedy  return  of  his  health.  John 
and  Ruth  and  Grace,  what  could  they  do 
more,  after  so  much  was  done  by  their 
parents,  save  to  make  the  slow-going  time 
pass  as  pleasantly  as  possible  by  their  pres- 
ence and  agreeable  conversation? 

After  all  it  was  only  a  week  that  Paul  lay 
sick  in  his  room,  his  own  natural  strength 
proving  the  best  physician  and  rapidly  re- 
pairing the  inroads  upon  his  health  made  by 
that  hour  of  peril.  He  had  not  found  it  so 
unpleasant,  in  spite  of  the  pain  he  had  suf- 
fered— and  it  had  been  considerable — to  be 
housed  up  there,  for  it  was  a  good  home  and 


74  MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

his  friends  were  of  the  kindest.  Besides,  he 
had  found  much  time  for  reflection — calm  re- 
flection, which  he  felt  he  needed  and  that  he 
knew  he  should  not  have  had  if  his  mind  had 
been  taken  up  during  the  week,  as  usual,  by 
his  college  studies.  Paul's  mind  was  very  im- 
pressible ;  his  narrow  escape  from  death  had 
exerted  an  influence  upon  it  of  no  slight  mo- 
ment ;  and  many  an  hour  he  had  passed  alone 
in  the  quiet  of  his  sick-room  pondering  upon 
the  mercy  that  had  spared  his  life  and  given 
him  still  an  opportunity  of  following  out  to 
the  end  the  thoughts  that  had  occupied  so 
much  of  his  attention  for  the  past  few  months. 
For  his  youthful  heart  had  been  touched  by 
the  study  of  divine  truth,  and  he,  who  had 
been  brought  up  in  a  family  without  the  light 
of  the  love  of  God,  who  was  the  son  of  a 
father  scorning  religion  and  all  its  claims,  had 
bestowed  more  thought  upon  his  obligations 
to  the  Creator  than  ever  before.  Often  when 
his  eyes  had  been  closed  as  if  in  sleep  and  his 
watcher  had  stolen  softly  from  the  room  to 
seek  repose,  he  had  been  tracing  inwardly  the 
signs  of  the  finger  of  the  Deity,  manifest  in 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          75 

shaping  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  And 
ever  culminating  in  that  dread  hour,  his  medi- 
tations came  again  and  again  to  the  ice-cold 
waves  that  had  swept  over  him  to  claim  him 
for  their  own  ;  to  the  unconscious  hours  upon 
the  verge  of  the  other  world,  when  his  spirit 
had  been  he  knew  not  where ;  to  the  return- 
ing life ;  to  the  present,  the  time  marked  out 
to  him  by  the  finger  of  God  as  the  season  for 
securing  for  his  own  the  proffered  blessings 
of  the  gospel  of  Christ ;  and  as  he  thought, 
ofttimes  the  tears  would  course  their  way 
down  his  pale  cheeks  and  fall  upon  his  pil- 
low, and  he  would  murmur  a  prayer  that  his 
mother,  his  mother  who  was  dead,  had  taught 
him  in  his  infancy,  that  God  would  make  him 
good  and  keep  him  in  all  fear  and  love. 

Oh  the  poor,  poor  soul !  There  may  be 
what  men  call  a  good  heart,  a  loving  disposi- 
tion ;  there  may  be  a  great  intellect,  a  giant 
mind ;  but  if  sin  be  not  forgiven,  and  the  soul 
be  not  safely  folded  in  the  arms  of  Christ,  it 
will  often  moan  and  cry,  and  lisp  its  childish 
prayers  for  that  which  it  hath  not.  For  the 
Loving  One  said:  ''Come  unto  me  and  I 


j6          MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

will  give  you  rest,"  and  rest  can  be  found 
nowhere  else. 

One  day  toward  the  last  of  the  week  Paul 
had  become  much  stronger,  and  had  been 
lying  in  this  way  alone,  apparently  asleep. 
Ruth,  who  had  left  him  an  hour  before,  and 
to  whose  care  her  mother  had  entrusted  the 
patient,  entered  the  room  with  noiseless  tread 
and  sat  down  to  wait  till  he  should  awake. 
Her  chair  was  placed  a  little  behind  the  bed, 
where  Paul  could  not  easily  have  seen  it  had 
he  been  awake.  She  had  remained  in  perfect 
quiet  a  few  minutes,  thinking  over  the  events 
of  the  past  week,  when  she  was  startled  by  a 
sob  from  the  invalid.  She  arose  quickly  and 
stood  by  his  side,  but  as  he  still  seemed 
asleep,  she  did  not  disturb  him.  She  thought 
that  he  dreamed,  for  his  eyes  were  moist  with 
tears,  and  again  the  low,  smothered  sob  came 
as  he  lay  so  quietly.  But  no  I  Still  with  eyes 
closed,  the  dark  lashes  quivering  on  his 
cheek,  his  lips  murmured  and  ihe  caught 
the  words — 

"O  mother,  come  and  teach  me  again  1 
O  Jesus,  give  me  thy  love  !  thy  love  I" 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.          77 

Ruth  heard  and  her  heart  beat  fast  as  it 
breathed  a  responsive,  "Amen."  She  bent 
over  the  young  man  before  her  and  spoke. 
She  could  not  hope  to  withdraw  without 
attracting  his  attention,  and  her  native  deli- 
cacy would  not  allow  her  to  remain  silent,  as 
it  was  evident  he  was  not  aware  of  her 
presence. 

"Paul,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "you 
were  speaking.  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?" 

He  started  quickly,  and  his  dark  eyes  look- 
ed up  into  her  hers.  He  saw  there  that  she 
had  heard  and  understood  his  words.  After 
gazing  long  and  earnestly  into  the  face  of 
his  beautiful  watcher,  he  smiled  and  said 
abruptly, 

"  Yes,  Ruth  I  Get  for  me  the  peace  you 
have !"  and  he  laid  his  hand  beseechingly 
upon  hers.  She  was  almost  startled  at  the 
earnestness  of  these  few  simple  words.  She 
had  not  known  of  the  contest  that  had  been 
going  on  in  the  young  man's  breast ;  and  as 
she  had  been  surprised  to  hear  his  low  words 
spoken  to  himself,  so  was  her  surprise  in- 


78         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

creased  at  this  earnest  and  sudden  appeal  to 
her.  In  answer  to  his  words,  instantly  and 
almost  without  thought  she  repeated  solemnly 
the  promise  of  the  Redeemer : 

"  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Then 
after  a  little  silence  :  "  Paul,  I  am  powerless 
to  give  you  that  for  which  you  ask.  You 
must  go  to  him  from  whom  I  received  it, 
and  who  is  ready  to  give  it  to  you  also." 

"  But  how  am  I  to  go?  And  whither?  It 
is  easy  to  say  'Go,'  but  it  is  hard,  oh  so  hard, 
to  find  the  way."  He  moved  uneasily  and 
partly  turned  away.  "  I  believe  my  sickness 
has  made  me  weak  in  mind  as  well  as  in 
body,"  he  said  with  a  half-bitter  smile.  "You 
found  me  with  my  eyes  wet,  my  voice  over- 
come by  emotion  almost  too  great  to  allow  me 
to  speak,  and  when  I  did  speak  I  said  that 
which  I  had  determined  to  keep  locked  in  my 
own  breast,  perhaps  for  ever.  Oh,  Ruth, 
Ruth,  pity  me  and  do  not  think  me  wholly 
devoid  of  sense !  I  have  spoken  now,  and 
you  may  as  well  know  all.  I  have  suffered 
torments  here  on  this  sick  bed.  The  pain  of 


MASTER    HATHORNE^   FAMILY.          79 

body  has  been,  but  the  sting  of  a  poor  fly  to 
the  agony  that  has  racked  my  soul,  and  in 
spite  of  all  my  striving  I  am  no  nearer  the 
end.  I  would  give  everything,  my  life,  if  I 
could  find  the  one  treasure,  the  pearl  of  great 
price,  but  I  am  beginning  to  think  it  will 
never  be  mine.  God  can  give  it  to  others 
who  are  not  half  so  wretched  as  I  am,  who 
are  not  half  so  eager  for  the  gift,  but  he  for- 
gets me.  Ah,  Ruth,  you  have  it  and  you 
cannot  know;  but  it  is  hard,  oh,  hard  indeed 
to  feel  its  want  as  I  do  !" 

His  voice  failed  him  and  he  lay  silent, 
overcome  by  the  violence  of  the  storm  within 
his  breast.  The  blessing  could  not  be  given 
to  him,  he  thought.  Ah,  it  was  even  then 
nearer  the  doubter  of  divine  mercy  than  he 
dreamed  1 

Ruth  stood  by  his  side  in  silence  still  look- 
ing down  upon  his  averted  face,  her  hand 
resting  upon  the  coverlet  beneath  his.  She 
had  never  seen  before  the  struggle  of  a  noble 
spirit,  of  a  spirit  yearning  for  that  love  higher 
than  any  that  the  world  can  give.  She  was 
at  a  loss ;  she  was  almost  alarmed  at  the 


So         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

violence  of  his  emotion,  and  she  had  no  hope 
of  giving  him  the  help  he  so  much  desired, 
save  by  referring  the  agonized  soul  to  the 
great  Physician.  Her  own  experience  had 
been  so  totally  different  from  this  that  she 
could  not  understand  the  young  man's  feel- 
ings. She  could  hardly  remember  the  time 
when  she  had  not  loved  Christ,  and  when  she 
had  been  without  that  blessed  peace  which 
that  love  alone  can  give.  With  her  there 
had  never  been  that  depth  of  desire,  that 
almost  despair,  which  she  now  saw  exhibited. 

In  a  moment  Paul  spoke  again.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  could  not  rest  an  instant,  now  that  the 
step  had  been  taken,  and  he  had  confided  to 
another  the  thoughts  contending  in  his  mind. 
He  motioned  Ruth  to  draw  her  chair  to  the 
bedside  and  turned  toward  her. 

"  You  know  a  part  of  my  past  life  and  his- 
tory," he  said,  "  and  even  from  that  you 
understand  what  my  advantages  have  been. 
You  know  that  I  lost  my  mother  while  still 
very  young,  scarcely  more  than  six  years 
old ;  that  since  her  death  I  have  never  had 
that  loving  care  ^which  fostered  my  earliest 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.  8l 

years ;  that  my  father  has  always  been  so 
absorbed  in  business  affairs  that  he  has  had 
little  time  or  care  for  anything  else,  even  for 
his  son.  I  do  not  complain ;  indeed,  I  have 
no  reason  to  do  so,  as  far  as  this  world's  com- 
fort and  well-being  are  concerned,  for  if  my 
father's  attention  has  been  absorbed  almost 
entirely  by  objects  extraneous  to  myself,  he 
has  still  not  forgotten  me,  providing  liberally 
for  every  want,  and  indeed,  as  I  believe, 
making  me  the  only  object  for  which  he  is 
continually  exerting  every  power  of  body 
and  mind.  Having  no  wife,  no  other  child 
save  me,  he  labors,  as  he  himself  has  often 
said,  solely  to  amass  sufficient  wealth  for  me, 
that  I  may  never  want.  Still,  his  immediate 
attentions  are  all  engrossed  in  this  very  pur- 
suit, and  while  he  has  thought  he  was  caring 
for  me  most  there  has  really  been  the  great- 
est neglect.  I  look  back  now  and  wonder  at 
myself.  Before  we  came  to  this  country,  in 
our  old  home  in  England,  I  was  compara- 
tively happy.  It  is  true,  after  my  studies 
were  done,  I  was  every  day,  for  the  most 
part,  entirely  alone,  having  no  playmates,  as 
F 


82         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

other  boys  had,  and  not  wishing  for  them  , 
but  I  would  steal  away  into  the  great  deserted 
library  and  curl  myself  up  in  a  window-seat 
with  the  books  for  my  companions.  Hours 
and  hours,  when  my  father  was  away  in  the 
city  and  the  servants  were  busy  about  their 
tasks,  I  have  passed  poring  over  some  old 
book  and  making  its  secrets  my  own.  Father 
would  sometimes  ask  me  how  I  had  spent  the 
day,  and  if  I  would  not  like  to  be  with  him 
in  the  city  or  where  I  could  find  some  play- 
mates; but  I  was  happy  enough  by  myself, 
and  as  he  saw  that  I  was  contented  he 
thought  no  more  about  me.  I  used  some- 
titnes  to  wish,  when  he  laid  his  hand  on  my 
head  and  spoke  thus  kindly  to  me,  that  in 
the  long,  dull  evenings  he  would  study  with 
me,  or  talk  more  to  me ;  but  I  hardly  dared 
to  ask  him  to  do  so,  he  seemed  so  distant, 
and  I  more  than  half  feared  him.  I  re- 
member I  always  loved  to  read  the  Bible 
particularly.  I  do  not  know  why ;  perhaps 
because  I  remembered  my  mother  with  so 
much  fondness,  and  was  feeling  the  effects 
of  her  instructions.  Certainly  I  never  enjoyed 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         83 

reading  in  any  Bible  so  much  as  in  the  one 
that  had  been  hers. 

"So  I  lived  from  day  to  day,  until  we  came 
here,  in  my  eighteenth  year.  Since  then  I 
have  missed  my  old  friends,  the  books ;  and, 
as  I  had  much  time  to  myself  until  I  came  to 
college,  I  amused  myself  in  trying  to  recall 
what  I  had  read  previously  and  in  speculating 
upon  the  subjects  thus  presented  to  my  mind. 
Particularly  have  I  been  interested  since  our 
arrival  here  in  the  subject  so  much  discussed, 
which  was  our  theme  only  a  few  days  ago ; 
and  our  intimacy  with  Mr.  William's  family 
has  fostered  this  interest  until  I  have  can- 
vassed the  whole  ground,  and  think  that  I 
understand  it  thoroughly.  It  was  this  in- 
quiry that  first  turned  my  thoughts  toward 
my  own  condition  as  a  sinner,  and  for  the 
last  few  months  I  have  had  little  peace.  I 
have  searched  the  Scriptures,  I  have  pon- 
dered and  prayed,  I  have  wept  the  bitter 
tears  of  repentance  and  desire,  and  yet  the 
boon  is  denied  me.  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth,  do  not 
say  you  cannot  help  me.  You  are  God's 
child,  you  are  loved  by  him.  He  will  listen 


S4          MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

while  you  pray,  though  he  is  deaf  to  me. 
Oh,  Ruth,  that  religion,  Christ's  religion, 
should  be  to  all  others  a  blessing,  but  not  to 
me!" 

The  deepest  chord  of  sympathy  trembled 
in  the  listening  maiden's  breast  in  response  to 
these  soul-rending  words.  What  could  she 
do  or  say  for  his  assistance — she  whose  ex- 
perience in  such  matters  had  been  so  small? 
She  knew  not.  A  silent  prayer  went  up  from 
her  heart  to  the  ear  of  the  Infinite.  A  light 
dawned  upon  her  bewildered  mind,  and  she 
seized  upon  the  thought  as  the  only  hope. 
Her  voice  was  calm  and  clear  as  she  spoke 
in  answer  to  her  companion's  words.  There 
was  no  uncertainty  of  manner,  no  doubt  ex- 
pressed by  her  simple  declaration,  for  she  felt 
that  in  answer  to  her  prayer  this  truth  had 
come  to  her  mind  from  heaven,  and  ere  she 
opened  her  lips  to  speak  she  felt  assured  that 
the  Lord  was  with  her,  giving  her  the  words 
that  were  needed  by  this  inquiring  soul. 

"Paul,"  she  said,  "the  One  from  whom 
yon  expect  this  blessing  has  said,  '  Believe  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.         85 

saved.'  You  have  nothing  more  to  do.  That 
is  all.  Do  you  believe?" 

"God  knows  I  believe,  and  I  love  his  Son  !" 

"Then  the  promise  is  yours;  you  are  a 
Christian." 

She  had  laid  her  hand  on  his,  and  her  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  his  face.  He  did  not  move  as 
she  spoke ;  his  eyes  gazed  into  hers,  as  if 
drinking  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  words 
that  she  uttered.  He  saw  in  the  divine  sen- 
tence she  had  repeated  a  new  meaning, 
fraught  with  deeper  consequence  than  he  had 
ever  dreamed  before.  The  truth  began  to 
dawn  upon  his  soul ;  the  grand  yet  simple 
truth,  that  to  believe  is  to  be,  in  the  Christian 
world ;  he  had  never  before  realized  in  all  its 
beauty  the  meaning  of  the  word  Christian. 
Now  he  saw  the  "straight  and  narrow  way," 
that  had  seemed  to  him  before  a  dreary,  im- 
passable waste,  opening  fair  and  beautiful  and 
leading  to  the  heavenly  country.  He  saw 
Jesus  the  gracious  Giver  of  salvation. 

"The  Saviour  has  sent  you  to  deliver  me 
and  lead  me  to  him,"  he  said,  simply. 
"Ruth,  he  is  my  elder  brother." 


86         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Thick  and  fast  fell  her  tears  upon  his  hand , 
tears  of  devout  thanksgiving  to  him  who  had 
led  her  aright,  and  who  had  redeemed  this 
one  more  soul  from  sin.  She  arose  hastily 
and  stood  by  his  side.  There  was  yet  one 
thing  that  must  be  said. 

"Paul,  upon  that  night,  that  dreadful 
night—" 

"For  which  I  thank  my  God  !" 

"I  prayed  that  if  your  life  came  back 
again  it  might  be  given  to  the  service  of  God. 
That  prayer  is  now  answered.  I  know  you 
will  serve  him  as  you  best  can,  with  all  hon- 
esty and  earnestness  of  heart,  no  matter  what 
way  you  walk  or  with  what  people  you  cast 
your  lot.  But  one  thing  I  must  ask  of  you. 
You  do  not  think  as  we  do ;  my  father's  re- 
ligious doctrines  I  know  cannot  be  yours,  for 
you  have  declared  it  as  unmistakably  as  if 
you  had  spoken  it  in  words,  when,  on  the  day 
you  left  us,  you  parried  his  attack.  He  is  al- 
ready alarmed.  Do  not  bring  hatred  to  his 
heart  and  sorrow  to  our  home,  for  he  cannot 
love  an  enemy  of  his  church.  Pardon  me, 
Paul,  for  speaking  thus,  but,  believe  me,  it  is 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         87 

for  the  good  of  all.  Avoid  disputes  while 
here,  and  before  you  take  any  step  to  declare 
yourself  the  friend  of  another  people,  let  me 
know,  that  I  may  prevent,  if  possible,  any 
discord  between  us." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said;  "I  am  glad  you 
have  spoken.  I  will  do  as  you  say." 

Ruth  left  him  and  passed  to  her  own  room, 
and  as  he  lay  and  pondered  upon  his  new -joy, 
his  eyelids  closed  and  he  fell  into  a  sweet, 
childlike  sleep. 

Not  many  days  passed  before  Paul  was 
well  again,  and  he  returned  to  his  studies  with 
renewed  zeal.  His  absence  from  college  had 
been  no  loss  to  him.  Had  he  not  gained  that 
for  which  he  would  have  given  all  else,  and 
in  comparison  with  which  even  life  itself  wzs 
not  to  be  valued?  Now  there  was  more  pur- 
pose in  study  ;  everything  wore  a  new  aspect 
in  his  eyes ;  the  face  of  nature  had  never 
been  so  beautiful  before ;  the  songs  of  the 
birds,  the  ripple  of  the  waves,  the  sighing  of 
the  breezes,  all  seemed  to  bear  to  his  mind 
new  messages  of  love  and  peace.  Even 


3S          MASTER  HATHORNE' S  FAMILT. 

when  the  wintry  storms  beat  and  the  earth 
seemed  to  shrink  in  terror  beneath  the  fury  of 
the  tempest,  there  was  that  in  the  storm  which 
led  his  thoughts  above;  for  he  turned  again 
to  the  hour  when  he  had  hung  between  life 
and  death,  and  remembered  the  mercy  which 
had  restored  him  to  life  and  strength. 

It  was  with  greater  pleasure  than  ever  that 
he  looked  forward  to  the  return  of  Saturday, 
that  he  might  revisit  the  friends  who  had  so 
kindly  cared  for  him  during  his  sickness. 
Their  dwelling  was  now  more  than  ever  his 
home,  and  the  happiest  hours  of  the  week 
were  those  he  spent  beneath  its  roof.  There 
was  only  one  thing  to  trouble  him  and  mar 
his  happiness.  He  could  not  fail  to  notice  a 
growing  coldness  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Hathorne 
toward  himself.  He  knew  not  to  what  it  was  to 
be  attributed,  unless  perhaps  to  suspicions  of 
his  heretical  principles,  of  which  Ruth  had 
hinted.  Mr.  Hathorne,  however,  had  shown 
him  the  kindest  attentions  during  his  sickness, 
and  he  was  unwilling  to  believe  that  this  was 
due  merely  to  the  hospitality  which  the  host 
felt  obliged  to  observe.  Mr.  Hathorne  always 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.          89 

received  him  to  his  home  with  some  appear- 
ance of  cordiality;  still,  there  was  that  in  his 
mien  that  often  made  him  uncomfortable,  and 
compelled  him  to  feel  that  he  no  longer  held 
the  warm  place  in  his  heart  which  he  had 
once  possessed. 

Yet  Paul  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
renounce  all  the  pleasures,  so  dear  to  him,  of 
this  quiet  home.  All  the  other  members  of 
the  family  were  the  same  as  ever.  John  was 
still  his  staunch  friend,  standing  almost  in  the 
position  of  a  brother  to  him,  aiding  him  by 
his  advice  and  the  experience  that  his  addi- 
tional years  had  given ;  Ruth  and  Grace 
were  ever  ready  to  make  their  home  pleasant 
to  the  lonely  student  so  far  away  from  his 
own ;  and  Mrs.  Hathorne  filled  as  well  as  she 
could  the  place  so  long  ago  made  vacant  by 
the  death  of  his  fondly-remembered  mother. 
Therefore,  though  it  was  with  pain  that 
he  saw  the  indications  of  Mr.  Hathorne's 
changed  feeling,  he  was  unable  to  sever 
himself  entirely  from  all  the  influences  which 
he  felt  to  be  so  necessary  to  his  happiness. 

Paul  had  not  mistaken  Mr.  Hathorne's  feel- 

8» 


90  MAST  Elf   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

ings  in  regard  to  himself.  His  answer  to 
the  stern  Puritan's  attack  upon  his  sentiments 
had  revealed  his  position,  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  Paul  Wallingford,  the  dissenter  from 
his  doctrines,  to  retain  the  affection  that  had 
begun  to  spring  up  in  the  old  man's  heart. 
Paul  was  not  a  Christian  when  he  entered 
into  so  many  arguments  with  John  upon 
doctrinal  points ;  and  it  may  seem  strange 
that  one  having  so  little  personal  interest  at 
stake  should  be  so  ready  to  offer  himself  as 
the  champion  of  any  particular  faith.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  nearly  all  his  life 
had  been  passed  in  study ;  and  many  of  the 
busiest  days  of  his  later  years — when  the 
tumultuous  events  of  the  reign  of  the  second 
Charles  had  impressed  his  thoughtful  mind 
with  the  importance  of  the  subject — had  been 
devoted  to  the  consideration  of  the  different 
phases  of  religious  belief  that  had  occasioned 
such  bitter  persecutions  upon  both  sides  of  the 
sea.  Thus  it  was  that  he  so  well  understood 
the  great  questions  of  the  day,  and  was  ena- 
bled, now  that  the  time  had  come,  easily  to 
make  a  choice  for  himself. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


PAUL  WALLINGFORD'S  PURPOSE. 

j  N  the  quiet  little  town  of  Boston  more 
than  two  hundred  years  ago  the  daily 
life  of  our  forefathers  was  very  little 
varied.  There  were  times  when  the  whole 
community  would  be  stirred  by  some  im- 
portant proceeding,  or  by  some  revolutionary 
doctrine  proclaimed  amongst  them  ;  but  these 
disturbances  would  soon  subside,  and  day 
would  follow  day  with  no  more  important 
event  than  the  arrival  of  a  vessel  from 
England  bearing  news  from  home,  and 
perhaps  a  carriage  consigned  to  some  one 
of  the  wealthier  citizens,  or  the  visit  of  a 
larger  number  of  Indians  than  usual  to  the 
neighborhood  for  the  purpose  of  trading  or  of 
profiting  by  the  teachings  of  the  good  apostle, 
Eliot. 

91 


92          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

No  incident  worthy  of  particular  note 
occurred  in  the  history  of  our  little  family 
for  several  months  after  Paul's  sickness.  The 
days  and  weeks  went  by ;  the  snows  of  winter 
gradually  disappeared  beneath  the  rays  of  the 
warmer  sun  of  spring ;  the  ice-bound  coast 
became  free  again,  and  the  swollen  streams 
rushed  joyfully  from  their  winter  fastnesses 
among  the  hills,  and  mingled  their  life  with 
their  parent  sea ;  the  willing  earth  began 
again  to  put  on  her  robes  of  beauty  and  pre- 
pare herself  for  all  the  glories  of  the  summer 
days. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  last  of  May  that  Paul 
Wallingford  came  earlier  than  usual  on  Satur- 
day morning  to  his  home  with  the  Hathornes. 
It  was  a  busy  day,  as  Saturday  always  was 
in  every  New  England  household,  but  Paul 
was  gladly  welcomed,  and  his  request  that 
Ruth  might  be  spared  by  her  mother  for  a 
sail  with  him  on  the  bay  met  with  no  such 
opposition  as  he  feared.  Grace  urged  her 
sister  to  go,  and  with  her  help  her  mother 
anticipated  little  trouble  in  doing  all  the 
necessary  work.  Paul  told  them  he  had 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILT.         93 

engaged  John  to  go  with  them  upon  their 
excursion,  and  so  Mrs.  Hathorne  consented 
the  more  readily  to  Ruth's  absence. 

The  morning  was  beautiful — just  fitted  for 
so  rare  an  occurrence  as  the  excursion  which 
Paul  had  planned.  Seldom  could  either 
young  men  or  maidens  gather  enough  time 
from  their  many  arduous  duties  to  spend  a 
half  day  in  such  pastime  as  our  young  friends 
now  proposed  ;  therefore  it  was  with  the  more 
zest  that  Paul  and  Ruth  hurried  away  to  the 
water-side,  where  the  boat  awaited  them. 
They  found  John  already  upon  the  sands, 
and  without  much  delay  they  pushed  out  into 
the  bay.  Paul  was  somewhat  skilled  in  the 
management  of  a  boat,  and  under  his  com- 
mand they  sped  away  from  shore  with  a  full 
sail  and  a  boiling  wake  at  the  stern. 

An  excursionist  in  the  Boston  harbor  of  our 
days  gazes  upon  an  entirely  different  scene 
from  that  which  unfolded  itself  to  view  in  the 
year  1664  or  thereabout.  Now  there  are  piles 
of  granite  and  substantial  brick  dwellings  and 
warehouses  to  be  left  behind ;  the  smoky 
wharves  of  South  Boston  and  the  closely- 


94          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY 

built  hill  lie  upon  the  right;  the  lumber- 
strewn  yards  of  East  Boston  and  her  skeleton 
ships  stretch  along  the  left  shore ;  and  the 
speeding  steam-boat  glides  away  through  a 
naze  of  vessels,  from  the  size  of  a  skiff  to 
that  of  the  iron-clad  man-of-war,  past  the 
green-capped  granite  wall  of  Fort  Indepen- 
dence, past  the  black  and  threatening  guns  of 
Winthrop  and  Warren,  winding  a  devious 
way  along  the  buoyed  channel  down  to  the 
open  sea.  The  islands  lie  sandy,  for  the 
most  part,  and  bare  of  trees;  the  tall  light- 
houses lift  up  their  ghostly  lengths  upon  the 
summits  of  the  steeps ;  the  many  sails  flit 
hither  and  thither  over  the  waters ;  and  all 
is  joyful  life  and  activity.  But  this  is  modern 
Boston. 

At  the  time  of  our  story  the  beautiful  bay 
wore  a  far  different  aspect.  Then  a  little 
town  of  low,  unpainted  wooden  houses  rested 
lovingly  upon  the  green  hills  and  valleys  of 
the  peninsula,  of  which  a  writer  of  1634  ob- 
served :  "It  being  a  neck,  and  bare  of  wood, 
they  (the  inhabitants)  are  not  troubled  with 
three  great  annoyances,  of  wolves,  rattle- 


MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILT.          95 

snakes,  and  mosquitoes."*  The  prominent 
objects  to  one  upon  the  waters  of  the  bay 
would  be  the  fort  upon  "a  great  broad  hill" 
on  the  south  side  and  a  windmill  that  crowned 
the  top  of  a  hill  "equal  in  bigness"  to  the 
former  elevation  upon  the  north  side.  The 
islands  far  and  near,  save  where  the  hand  of 
man  had  cleared  them  for  the  supply  of  fuel 
for  the  town,  were  covered  with  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  trees,  and  the  shores  of  the  main- 
land were  dark  and  majestic  with  their  forests 
that  had  stood  centuries. 

Almost  always  some  vessel  would  be  riding 
at  anchor  upon  the  waves,  but  the  ships  were 
so  few  that  they  were  always  objects  of  the 
greatest  interest,  not,  as  now,  passed  by  with 
a  glance.  Indian  canoes  darted  noiselessly 
about,  in  and  out  between  the  islets,  their 
swarthy  navigators  wielding  the  light  paddles 
with  inimitable  dexterity,  propelling  and  guid- 
ing the  frail  craft  with  a  single  turn  of  the 
blade.  Here  and  there  rafts  of  fire-wood 
were  floating  up  toward  the  town,  and  lighters 

*  "  New  England's  Prospect,"  by  William  Wood     London, 
1634.    Page  37. 


Q6        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

laden  with  hay  for  the  cattle  crept  silently 
along.  It  was  all  a  scene  of  the  rarest 
beauty — a  scene  at  once  of  peace  and  plenty 
and  of  busy  activity. 

For  some  time  our  three  young  people 
sailed  on  in  silence.  Paul  held  the  tiller, 
John  sat  near  the  centre  of  the  boat,  having 
the  sheet  under  his  care,  and  Ruth  sat  be- 
tween them  upon  the  windward  side,  her 
white  hand  clinging  half  in  fear  to  the  gun- 
wale as  the  little  craft  careened  before  the 
breeze. 

After  the  first  few  words  of  instruction 
given  to  John  by  Paul  a  silence  had  fallen 
upon  them  as  each  drank  in  the  placid  beauty 
stretched  out  before  them.  It  was  enough 
for  the  eye  to  gaze,  and  no  word  of  exclama- 
tion was  needed  to  impress  upon  either  of 
them  the  delight  felt  by  the  others.  The 
water  curling  at  the  bow  was  all  that  broke 
the  stillness,  save  at  intervals  the  distant  cry 
of  some  sailor  or  the  falling  of  an  oar  dropped 
from  the  hand  of  a  careless  boatman.  The 
white  gulls  wheeled  unmolested  in  their  flight, 
swooping  down  ever  and  anon  to  the  waters 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         97 

and  resting  for  a  moment  their  flapping 
wings,  or  seizing  for  their  food  some  luck- 
less fish ;  and  from  beneath  the  waves  the 
silver}'  mackerel  would  leap  above  the  sur- 
face in  fruitless  attempts  to  escape  their 
voracious  pursuers. 

At  last  Paul  altered  their  course  a  few 
points  to  avoid  a  large  mass  of  floating  sea- 
weed, in  which  they  would  have  become 
entangled,  and  abruptly  broke  the  silence  by 
calling  the  attention  of  the  others  to  an  Indian 
canoe  that  darted  rapidly  out  from  the  island 
they  were  approaching  and  moved  in  their 
direction  as  if  to  meet  them. 

"Here  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,"  said  Paul, 
"  whom  I  engaged  to  meet  us  here.  He  is 
an  Indian  who  has  had  dealings  with  us  at 
home,  and  is  an  ardent  friend  of  my  father. 
He  found  me  out  when  he  came  here  a 
month  ago,  and  we  have  seen  each  other 
many  times  since.  He  is  a  Narragansett, 
true  as  steel,  and  always  ready  to  favor  me 
as  he  can.  I  think  we  shall  find  he  has  some 
dinner  for  us  on  the  island." 

As  he  thought,  the  Indian  no  sooner  came 


9?         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

within    hail    than    he    ceased    paddling    and 
pointed  to  the  cove  he  had  left. 

"  Oh,  duck  !  Roast  him  duck  !  Good  foi 
eat  to  the  ladee !"  he  cried  out,  beckoning 
them  to  hasten. 

Paul  laughed  heartily  at  his  Indian  friend's 
language  and  gesticulations  ;  and  as  the  Indian 
himself  seemed  amused  thereupon,  Ruth  and 
John  no  longer  restrained  their  merriment, 
but  joined  in  the  laugh. 

"Solomon  is  afraid  his  dinner  will  get 
cold,"  Paul  said.  "We  must  run  in  and 
help  him  eat  it,  and  then  sail  longer  after- 
ward. He  has  anticipated  my  orders  by  a 
\vhole  hour." 

They  rapidly  neared  the  shore,  the  Indian 
following  in  his  canoe,  and  it  was  but  a 
moment  before  the  keel  grated  on  the  sandy 
beach  of  the  little  cove  and  they  stepped 
from  the  boat.  Long  Solomon,  as  he  was 
called,  a  red-skin  of  immense  stature,  lifted 
his  canoe  upon  the  beach  above  the  tide- 
mark,  and  then  led  the  way  by  a  small  path 
into  the  woods.  A  minute's  walk  brought 
them  to  a  little  clearing,  in  the  midst  of 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         99 

which  there  was  a  smouldering  fire,  before 
which  was  the  duck  roasting  upon  a  spit. 
The  Indian's  first  care  was  to  turn  the  duck 
and  rake  the  fire  together ;  then  he  conducted 
the  party  to  a  rude  cover  he  had  erected  out 
of  bark  and  birch  poles.  A  low  seat  of  stones 
and  moss  was  ready,  and  Solomon,  waving  his 
hand  majestically,  signified  to  Ruth,  by  a 
repetition  of  the  word  "  Ladee,  ladee,"  that 
she  was  to  rest  there  until  the  preparations 
for  dinner  were  completed. 

Their  sail  of  an  hour  had  whetted  the 
appetite  of  all  the  party,  and  it  was  with 
great  satisfaction  that  they  partook  of  the 
meal  which  Solomon  and  Paul  served  to 
them.  The  duck  was  roasted  to  a  turn,  and 
the  vegetables,  baked  in  the  ashes,  were  ex- 
cellent. Solomon  stood  looking  on  with  great 
gravity  as  the  three  partook  of  the  repast. 
Ruth  and  John  thought  they  had  never  seen 
so  fine  a  specimen  of  a  man  among  the 
natives  of  the  forest,  and  it  was  with  the 
greatest  admiration  they  regarded  him  at- 
tentively as  he  leaned  with  folded  arms 
against  a  pine-trunk,  the  great  muscles  of 


100       MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILT. 

his  bare  and  tawny  limbs  in  dignified  re- 
pose. 

Their  hunger  having  been  allayed,  a  pleas- 
ant hour  was  spent  beneath  the  cool  shade, 
'.he  brother  and  sister  trying  to  induce  the 
Indian  to  talk  with  them ;  but  his  persevering 
monosyllables  discouraged  their  attempts,  and 
he  soon  stepped  aside  from  them  and  stretched 
himself  out  beneath  a  tree  for  rest.  A  very 
giant  he  seemed,  lying  upon  the  green  earth 
among  the  great  roots,  and  Ruth  was  glad 
such  a  man  was  not  likely  to  meet  her  alone 
in  the  forest  wandering  and  lost.  She  did 
not  know  Long  Solomon  as  she  did  after- 
ward, and  as  she  looked  on  him  she  little 
thought  of  the  devoted  service  she  was  yet  to 
receive  at  his  hands. 

It  was  noon  when  they  set  sail  again  and 
drew  away  from  the  island.  Paul  had  made 
an  arrangement  with  Solomon  to  meet  him 
during  the  next  week,  and  the  latter,  embark- 
ing in  his  canoe,  paddled  away  toward  the 
hills  of  Dorchester.  They  watched  the  blade 
of  his  paddle  as  it  flashed  in  the  sunshine, 
scattering  the  glistening  drops  in  a  bright 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.       101 

shower  behind  him,  and  they  marked  the 
grace  with  which  his  powerful  arms  forced 
his  way  over  the  waves. 

"As  true  a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  white  man 
or  red  man  is  in  Solomon's  breast,"  said  Paul, 
enthusiastically.  ' '  I  venture  to  say  I  have  no 
truer  friend  than  that  dark  man  of  the  forest, 
and  there  is  nothing  he  would  not  do  for  any 
of  our  family.  My  father  befriended  him 
upon  one  occasion,  and  he  will  never  forget 
it.  I  had  an  object  in  introducing  him  to  you 
to-day ;  if  you  like  his  appearance,  he  is  the 
guide  I  propose  to  take  on  our  journey." 

"If  in  other  respects  he  is  as  good  as  in 
cooking  a  dinner,  I  could  desire  no  better  red- 
skin," said  John,  laughing.  "You  say  he  is 
to  be  trusted?  I  am  loth  to  believe  in  any 
Indian,  and  really,  if  it  were  not  for  powder 
and  ball,  I  think  we  should  find  few  of  them 
friendly." 

"Not  so  with  this  one,"  Paul  answered. 
"I  know  him  thoroughly,  and  I  would  trust 
my  life  in  his  hands  at  any  moment." 

"A  good  pledge,  Paul.  I  vote  for  Solo- 
mon." 


102         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

"  He  is  so  noble  and — "  Ruth  began. 

"  We  are  all  of  a  mind,  I  see,"  cried  John, 
smiling.  "Roast  duck  is  a  capital  means  of 
obtaining  friends.  Solomon  was  wise  to  re- 
aort  to  so  good  an  expedient." 

"lie  goes  with  us,  then,  next  month,"  said 
Paul.  "Now  for  a  matter  of  more  import- 
ance. We  have  chosen  a  guide,  but  perhaps 
you  will  not  go  yourselves  when  you  hear 
what  I  have  to  say.  I  will  tell  you  my  story, 
and  then  you  can  be  guided  by  your  own 
judgment  in  the  case.  I  could  not  have  set 
out  with  you  on  the  journey  we  anticipate 
without  telling  you  of  this  great  decision  I 
have  made." 

Ruth  looked  up  quickly  into  the  speaker's 
face,  divining  the  words  that  were  to  follow. 
Paul's  eyes  did  not  meet  hers.  He  was 
looking  seaward  with  fixed  glance,  evidently 
thinking  of  nothing  but  what  he  was  about  to 
say.  His  face  was  solemn  and  earnest  as  he 
spoke. 

"  More  than  six  months  ago,  when  I  was 
sick  beneath  your  roof,  there  came  a  day 
when  God  revealed  himself  to  me  in  all  the 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         103 

power  of  the  salvation  which  he  has  provided 
for  men.  As  you  both  know,  I  at  that  time 
resolved  that  my  future  life  should  be  very 
different  from  the  years  past  indeed,  a  new 
life  had  taken  its  root  in  my  heart — a  new 
love  had  sprung  up  there,  that  could  only 
influence  me  to  the  pursuit  I  have  chosen. 
Previous  to  that  time  my  studies  had  taken 
such  a  course  that  I  became  well  acquainted 
with  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  the  great  religious 
questions  of  our  day.  Already  I  had  can- 
vassed with  considerable  care  and  the 
greatest  interest  the  grounds  of  difference 
between  the  faith  of  the  Puritans  and  the 
peculiar  doctrines  of  the  other  smaller  sects ; 
the  Ranters  and  Seekers,  Brownists  and 
Baptists  and  Quakers,  the  Antinomians  and 
Universalists,  received  as  much  study  and 
consideration  as  my  facilities  would  allow. 
You  may  have  gathered  from  the  conversa- 
tions we  have  held  together  that  to  all  but 
one  of  these  sects  I  have  been  as  unable  to 
unite  in  belief  as  to  the  Puritans.  You  know 
already  my  grounds  for  dissent  from  the  Pu- 
ritans' doctrines,  and  of  the  others  it  is  of 


104        MASTER    HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

little  moment  what  opinions  I  hold,  since  but 
one  faith  can  receive  my  unqualified  assent. 
It  is  of  this  I  am  to  tell  you  now. 

* '  None  of  my  family  or  friends  have  ever 
cherished,  to  my  knowledge,  the  sentiments 
of  the  Baptists.  I  am  the  first  to  proclaim 
myself  of  their  number ;  and  I  do  so  now  only 
after  the  most  diligent  study,  which  began 
before  that  eventful  day  six  months  ago,  and 
has  been  continued,  with  earnest  prayer  for 
divine  guidance,  since  my  heart  has  been 
fixed  in  the  love  of  Christ.  I  have  been 
wholly  unable  to  make  a  different  decision, 
and  henceforth  my  lot  must  be  cast  in  with  the 
Baptists.  Had  it  been  possible,  I  would  have 
united  gladly  with  such  dear  friends  as  you 
have  all  been  to  me,  but  God  has  seen  fit  to 
convince  me  that  such  was  not  my  duty.  It 
is  my  purpose,  when  I  return  home  next 
month,  to  unite  with  the  church  there  founded 
by  Mr.  Williams  and  his  associates  by  the 
only  true  baptism,  as  I  believe  it — immersion." 

He  stopped  speaking.  His  voice  had  not 
wavered,  his  eye  had  remained  as  bright  and 
earnest  and  unflinching  before  the  gaze  that 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        105 

he  felt  was  fixed  upon  him,  as  if  he  had  not 
been  giving  utterance  to  what  they  would 
deem  the  deepest  heresy.  Now  that  he  had 
done  speaking,  he  looked  toward  John  as  if 
expecting  some  word  of  reply  from  him,  but 
his  friend  had  turned  from  him  and  was  gaz- 
ing at  the  distant  shore,  fixed  in  deep  and 
grave  meditation.  After  a  silence  of  a  few 

V 

moments,  Paul  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"John,  tell  me  that  I  have  not  lost  my 
friend.  Tell  me  that  our  love  for  each  other 
rested  upon  a  stronger  basis  than  the  perfect 
unity  of  our  opinions." 

John  turned  to  him  slowly  and  gazed  an  in- 
stant into  Paul's  deep,  black  eye.  Then  he 
held  him  his  hand,  and  as  Paul  placed  his 
with  a  glad  smile  in  its  grasp,  he  lifted  his 
other  hand  to  heaven  and  said  gravely : 

"The  love  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has 
made  me  wiser  than  you  think.  I  am  a  Pu- 
ritan— a  member  of  that  sect  which  was 
driven  from  England  to  their  home  in  the 
wilderness.  As  God  helps  me,  I  will  never 
cast  out  a  brother  of  another  faiJi,  either 
from  my  home  or  my  heart." 


lo6       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Could  John  have  seen  the  light  of  gladness 
that  beamed  from  Ruth's  eyes  as  he  spoke  he 
would  have  had  no  fear  that  what  he  had  said 
would  meet  with  her  disapproval ;  but  she  had 
turned  away,  and  her  face  was  lifted  toward 
the  bright,  calm  sky,  in  thankfulness  to  God 
that  he  had  given  peace  where  she  had  feared 
only  discord.  John  thought  her  silence,  her 
averted  face,  were  only  to  conceal  her  disap- 
proval. 

"It  has  been  a  hard  duty,"  said  Paul,  his 
face  lighted  up  with  joy,  "to  tell  you  this, 
John.  But,  thank  God  I  it  is  not  as  I  feared. 
It  would  have  been  a  sad,  sad  day  for  me 
had  I  lost  so  good  a  friend  as  John  Hathorne. 
Oh  that  I  might  have  had  your  help  in  my 
anxiety  !  You  would  not  have  had  me  come 
to  this  conclusion,  I  know,  but  I  should  have 
been  spared  my  fears  for  the  friendship  I  prize 
so  much  ;  and  in  trying  to  lead  me  your  way 
I  know  I  should,  in  some  points,  have  been 
helped  on  in  my  own.  As  it  is — " 

"As  it  is,  I  am  glad,"  interrupted  John, 
"for  as  I  know  you  have  come  to  your  deci- 
sion by  yourself,  I  reverence  the  more  the  re- 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        107 

suit  of  your  mental  conflict;  for  I  think  it 
must  have  been  a  conflict  that  could  bring 
you  to  become  one  in  heart  and  mind  with 
those  who  suffer  so  much  trouble  and  per- 
secution." 

There  was  a  little  silence  after  John  had 
spoken,  and  Ruth  wondered  if  it  had  been 
Paul's  bold  arguments  that  had  tempered  her 
brother's  opinions  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
could  declare  himself  averse  to  the  oppres- 
sion of  heresy.  She  knew  that  but  little  more 
than  two  years  ago,  when  the  Quaker  excite- 
ment had  culminated  in  the  execution  of  Mary 
Dyer,  he  had  been  opposed  to  lenient  meas- 
ures, though  not  approving  that  grave  sen- 
tence which  brought  an  aged  woman  to  the 
scaffold.  Since  that  time  he  had  come  to 
know  Paul,  and  might  it  not  be  due  in  some 
part  to  his  influence  that  this  change  in  his 
sentiments  had  occurred? 

"Tell  us,  Paul,  of  your  Baptist  principles 
and  your  way  of  arriving  at  them?"  John 
asked,  thoughtfully.  "I  have  not  studied 
these  subjects  so  carefully  as  you  have, 
though  I  know  enough  of  them  to  understand 


IOS        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

my  own  ground  perfectly  well.  I  am  a 
different  man  from  what  I  was  a  few  years 
ago ;  it  is  no  longer  with  pain  and  anger  I 
hear  other  religious  sentiments  than  my  own 
announced  and  defended ;  and  it  is  with 
sorrow  I  have  to  confess  that  for  so  many 
years  I  suffered  myself  to  sympathize  with 
the  bitter  spirit  of  intolerance  so  prevalent  in 
our  colony." 

Paul  was  very  willing  to  comply  with  his 
friend's  request.  He  thoroughly  appreciated 
the  alteration  in  his  character,  and  was  re- 
joiced that  he  whom  he  had  thought  to  make 
an  enemy  was  still  his  friend,  glad  to  listen 
to  his  voice  even  though  it  spoke  words  for 
which  others  would  hate  him. 

"  I  will  begin  at  the  earliest  period  of  my 
studies  in  which  I  began  to  incline  to  my 
present  faith,"  Paul  said,  lying  back  upon  the 
thwart  and  gazing  upon  the  waves  that  danced 
merrily  up  and  down  in  the  direction  of  the 
fair  and  graceful  form  of  Ruth,  who  sat  near 
his  side,  her  dark  and  thoughtful  eyes  fixed 
in  deep  attention  upon  his  face.  "  It  was  three 
or  four  years  ago  that  I  came  naturally  from 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        1 09 

a  consideration  of  the  Brownists  to  that  of  the 
Baptists.  Of  their  belief,  that  they  receive 
their  faith  directly  from  Christ  and  the  apostles, 
I  will  not  now  speak,  for  you  will  want  to 
debate  that  point  with  me;  but  I  will  only 
tell  you  the  simple  story  of  how  I  found  my- 
self to  be  of  their  number.  In  the  course  of 
my  reading  I  came  down  through  the  per- 
secution of  the  times  of  Henry  VIII.  and 
Elizabeth,  when  the  fires  of  Smithfield  were 
kindled  alike  for  Papists  and  Baptists,  to  the 
tyranny  of  Archbishop  Laud  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.,  and  to  the  heartrending  accounts 
of  the  fines,  imprisonments,  mutilations, 
brandings,  and  tortures  of  all  kinds  inflicted 
by  that  cruel  servant  of  the  church.  His 
pretensions  to  mercy  and  his  claim  that  he 
was  performing  the  duty  laid  on  him  by  the 
meek  and  gentle  and  forgiving  Saviour  only 
made  his  character  the  more  hideous  and 
revolting  in  my  eyes.  As  I  read  of  these 
terrible  scenes,  I  shuddered  at  the  violence 
of  the  persecutors,  and  an  irresistible  impulse 
came  upon  me  to  believe  rather  with  the 

suffering  martyrs  than  with  the  monsters  of 

10 


iio        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

cruelty  who  oppressed  them.  Then  recurred 
to  my  mind  the  words  of  one  of  these  Chris- 
tians, who  had  endured  much  for  the  cause 
in  common  with  his  brethren.  Speaking  of 
his  persecutors,  he  had  said :  *  Be  these,  I 
pray  you,  the  sheep  whom  Christ  hath  sent 
forth  in  the  midst  of  wolves?  can  the  sheep 
persecute  the  wolf  ?  Doth  Abel  kill  Cain  ? 
Doth  David,  though  he  might,  kill  Saul? 
Doth  he  which  is  born  of  the  Spirit  kill  him 
that  is  born  after  the  flesh?'  I  could  only 
answer,  Kay !  the  sheep  whom  Christ  hath 
sent  forth  are  the  weak  rather  than  the  strong  ; 
the  birth  of  the  Spirit  is  not  for  the  unbridled 
license  of  anger,  malice,  and  revenge.  The 
children  of  God  are  they  who  are  poor  in 
spirit ;  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  : 
the  children  of  God  are  they  who  are  merci- 
ful ;  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy ;  and  blessed 
are  they  which  are  persecuted  for  righteous- 
ness' sake ;  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Though  my  heart  was  sickened 
within  me,  I  tried  not  to  think  uncharitably 
of  those  whose  mistaken  zeal  pursued  to  the 
death  their  less  powerful  opponents  in  faith, 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       Ill 

but  in  spite  of  all,  I  could  only  believe  that 
the  help  of  God  was  with  those  who  suffered 
so  much  for  his  sake. 

"  Then  a  noble  act  of  Christian  heroism 
provoked  my  admiration.  Fifty  years  ago 
John  Robinson,  the  celebrated  Puritan  divine 
to  whom  is  due  the  early  emigration  of  the 
Pilgrims  to  this  country,  wrote  in  defence  of 
the  civil  power  to  punish  '  religious  actions,' 
thus  giving  his  authority  in  support  of  the 
principles  which  have  actuated  the  course  of 
the  Colony  of  the  Bay  since  its  foundation  to 
the  present  day.  A  man  of  superior  abilities, 
John  Smyth,  who  had  been  an  Episcopal 
clergyman,  controverted  these  opinions,  and 
at  one  time  the  contest  waxed  very  warm, 
the  arguments  upon  either  side  exciting  much 
attention  from  the  friends  and  enemies  of  both 
parties.  This  John  Smyth,  as  you  know, 
was  the  celebrated  Baptist  pastor  suffering 
with  his  brethren  upon  the  continent  at  the 
time  of  which  I  speak.  His  is  the  deed  that 
so  forcibly  impressed  me.  His  persecuted 
brethren  in  England  were  bearing  the  haughty 
rule  of  King  James  and  his  Puritanic  parlia- 


112         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

ments,  suffering  much  from  their  efforts  to 
suppress  the  Baptist  faith,  though  hoping  for 
better  times  from  the  disagreements  between 
the  Puritans  and  James  and  the  concealed 
dislike  of  the  former  for  their  sovereign. 
Smyth  could  not  see  his  brethren  in  distress 
and  needing  his  assistance  without  moving 
for  their  relief;  gathering  the  exiles  together, 
he  placed  himself  at  their  head  as  their  pastor, 
and  returned  to  London.  Christ  had  told 
his  disciples  when  here  on  earth  that  those 
who  ministered  to  their  suffering  brethren 
ministered  to  him ;  and  that  they  might  dis- 
charge this  Christian  duty,  Smyth  and  his 
brethren  braved  the  wrath  of  a  king  and  the 
consequences  of  a  return  from  exile.  This 
act  of  moral  heroism,  though  others  may  be 
found  to  equal  or  even  to  surpass  it,  coming 
to  my  attention  at  the  opportune  moment, 
demanded  and  gained  at  once  my  admiration 
and  love  for  men  who  could  so  boldly  execute 
Christ's  commands  in  the  face  of  the  mightiest 
earthly  power. 

"There  was  a  difference,  too,  in  the  way 
in    which   this    sect   bore   their   persecutions 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         113 

that  distinguished  them  from  other  sects. 
Look  not  only  at  those  I  have  spoken  of  be- 
fore, but  also  at  that  noble  champion  of 
religious  liberty  and  of  Baptist  principles, 
Roger  Williams,  your  friend  and  mine,  thank 
God  !  His  mildness  and  affecting  sufferance 
of  ill,  and  his  noble,  Christian  benevolence 
toward  those  who  dissent  from  his  religious 
views,  illustrate  the  general  character  of  the 
Baptists  in  this  respect. 

"  Now  all  these  were  but  the  means  of  bring- 
ing my  attention  to  the  earnest  study  of  the 
Baptist  doctrines,  and  of  these  how  can  I 
speak  so  that  you,  who  do  not  believe  in  them, 
can  appreciate  my  feelings  in  having  found 
in  them  the  nearest  approach  to  the  perfect 
church  of  Christ?  Let  me  say  nothing  to 
wound  your  feelings,  for  I  respect  the  opinions 
of  your  church,  as  you  serve  still  the  same 
Master ;  but,  however  my  enthusiasm  may 
lead  me  to  defend  my  new-found  faith,  re- 
member that  I  am  still  filled  with  all  the 
ardor  of  a  new  disciple,  and  excuse  on  this 
ground  all  I  may  say  amiss. 

"The  Baptists  wish  for  no  higher  testimony 


114        MASTER   HATHORNE  S  FAMILY. 

than  the  words  of  the  great  Founder  of  the 
church,  Christ  himself:  and  when  they  cite 
his  declarations  in  favor  of  their  belief  and 
practice,  they  consider  that  all  which  is  neces- 
sary is  done.  I  turned  immediately,  then,  to 
their  rule  of  faith,  the  New  Testament,  and  I 
was  not  disappointed.  In  those  sacred  pages 
I  read  the  confirmation  in  Christ's  words  and 
those  of  the  apostles  of  the  assertions  of  the 
Baptists.  I  found  that  such  only  as  believed 
in  Christ  were  baptized  and  brought  into  the 
churches,  and  that  baptism  was  preceded  by 
going  down  into  the  water,  and  was  called  a 
burial  with  Christ — that  it  was  an  immersion. 
I  passed  many  days  and  often  the  nights  also 
in  a  careful  study  of  what  had  begun  to  seem 
to  me  the  way  of  truth. 

"Then  after  a  while,  and  when  my  thoughts 
were  still  troubled,  there  came  the  day  when 
my  heart  was  opened  to  receive  the  light  of 
the  Saviour's  love.  It  was  to  me  as  if  I 
heard  the  word  of  God  coming  out  of  heaven, 
calling  me  to  some  work  for  the  Lord  Jesus — 
a  work  of  which  I  then  only  had  the  foreshad- 
owing, but  which  I  have  now  accepted  in  all 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        115 

its  fullness  as  my  own.  Since  that  day  I  have 
striven  to  learn  the  duty  God  has  laid  upon 
me,  and  now  I  have  discovered  that  whereto 
I  am  called,  and  as  he  shall  help  me  I  will  try 
to  serve  him  faithfully  to  the  end." 
A  little  pause  and  then  he  continued : 
"I  know  the  troubles  I  am  to  expect  as  a 
minister  proclaiming  the  doctrines  of  a  small, 
despised,  and  persecuted  people,  but  I  trust  I 
shall  have  the  strength  requisite  for  my  task. 
I  may  be  rejected  of  men,  but  so  was  Jesus 
before  me;  I  may  be  reviled  and  hated,  and 
may  suffer  pain  both  physical  and  spiritual, 
but  his  agony  was  greater  than  mine  can  ever 
be ;  I  may  even  be  led  to  death,  as  others 
have  been  before  me,  but  I  shall  be  at  the 
foot  of  that  cross  whereon  the  Son  of  man 
breathed  out  his  life  for  me,  and  if  I  may  gaze 
up  into  his  face  and  hear  from  his  lips  the 
blessed  words,  « This  day  thou  shalt  be  with 
me  in  paradise,*  gladly  shall  I  suffer  for  his 
sake." 

The  face  of  the  youthful  speaker  shone  with 
the  fervor  of  his  hope.  He  had  laid  aside  his 
hat,  and  the  breeze  lifted  his  black  hair  from 


n6       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

his  brow  and  waved  it  back  over  his  temples ; 
his  eye  beamed  with  a  heavenly  radiance  as 
he  spoke  of  the  trial  that  might  be  in  store  for 
him,  and  his  cheeks  wore  a  rosy  flush.  His 
two  friends  looked  upon  him  with  a  thrill  of 
admiration  as  he  spoke  so  calmly  of  what  he 
hoped  and  feared,  and  when  by  a  common 
impulse  their  glance  turned  upon  each  other, 
they  as  quickly  shunned  each  other's  gaze,  as 
if  conscious  of  a  secret  to  be  possessed  alone 
by  the  individual  soul. 

Paul  turned  to  John  after  a  moment's  silence, 
and  said  in  a  tone  of  unfeigned  joy : 

"  My  dear  old  friend^  I  shall  have  one  at 
least  to  remain  with  me,  whatever  may  be  the 
issue  of  my  other  friendships.  I  know  that 
most  of  my  other  acquaintances  here  will 
shun  me — indeed  I  have  lost  some  of  them 
already — but  those  I  love  best  are  mine  still. 
Ruth,"  and  he  turned  suddenly  to  her,  "you 
too  will  not  leave  me?" 

The  maiden  laid  her  hand  in  his  and  an- 
swered, "No!" 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A  STORM   IN    THE    FAMILY. 

1HE  visit  to  Providence  Plantations  had 
long  been  talked  of  by  the  little  family 
of  our  friends,  and  now,  when  at  length 
the  project  had  become  a  settled  plan,  many  an 
evening  was  spent  in  discussing  the  subject  and 
in  completing  arrangements  for  the  journey. 

One  evening  a  few  days  after  the  events 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter,  when  the  family 
were  assembled  after  supper  and  there  had 
been  some  talk  about  the  event  which  en- 
grossed the  attention  of  all,  Mr.  Hathorne 
laid  aside  the  document  he  had  been  perus- 
ing, and  surprised  Ruth  by  the  announce- 
ment that  he  had  bought  a  horse  for  her  use, 
and  that  he  had  that  day  arrived  in  a  small 
vessel  from  England.  He  said  that  John 
should  ride  with  her  on  the  following  day, 

nr 


IlS        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

and  he  hoped  she  would  be  satisfied  with  the 
animal. 

The  tears  sprang  quickly  to  her  eyes  as 
Ruth  thanked  her  father  for  his  valuable  gift ; 
yet  it  was  with  a  feeling  almost  of  annoy- 
ance that  she  recognized  his  thoughtful  at- 
tention to  her  wants,  for  now  she  must  dis- 
close to  him  disagreeable  tidings  that  might 
put  a  stop  to  their  journey  and  render  his  gift 
of  no  avail  for  the  immediate  purpose  for 
which  it  was  bought.  Neither  she  nor  John, 
from  a  natural  dislike  of  imparting  disagree- 
able news,  had  informed  their  father  of  Paul's 
important  decision.  But  now  they  both  felt 
that  the  discovery  could  no  longer  be  deferred. 
Thus  it  was  that  Ruth  had  other  feelings  than 
mere  pleasure  and  gratitude  awakened  by  her 
father's  kindness.  She  had  little  doubt  that 
her  father  would  forbid  her  journey  when  he 
knew  of  their  friend's  change  of  opinion,  and 
it  was  with  the  more  sorrow  that  she  learned 
of  his  care  for  her  ease  and  comfort  while 
upon  the  road  through  the  wilderness.  She 
arose  from  her  seat  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table  and  came  round  to  him.  Then  she  put 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        lit,- 

her  arm  about  his  neck  as  she  stood  by  his 
chair  and  kissed  him  before  she  spoke. 

What  is  there  in  a  woman's  kiss  so  calm- 
ing to  the  spirit,  so  purifying  to  the  soul?  I 
think  a  wicked  man  could  not  withstand  that 
potent  charm  from  the  lips  of  a  mother,  a 
wife,  a  daughter.  His  sin  must  shrink  back 
within  itself,  and  leave  at  least  a  little  room  in 
his  heart  for  good  to  enter  and  occupy  as  its 
abiding-place. 

"Father,  I  have  something  to  tell  you," 
Ruth  began.  "Perhaps  this  journey  which 
we  have  been  planning  so  long  a  time,  and 
for  which  you  have  provided  me  with  this 
beautiful  present,  may  never  be  made.  You 
will  object,  I  know,  to  have  me  go  so  far  from 
home  with  one  whom  you  will  look  upon  as 
no  longer  a  proper  companion.  Paul  has  de- 
clared himself  the  heretic  you  feared  so  long 
ago  he  would  become.  He  told  us  all,  John 
and  myself,  when  we  were  sailing  in  the 
harbor  a  few  days  ago.  If  you  reject  him  as 
an  unsafe  companion  for  your  children,  I 
k  low  you  will  do  so  admiring  the  frankness 
with  which  he  has  refused  to  allow  them  to 


130       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

make  this  journey  with  him  while  his  true 
sentiments  were  concealed.  His  purpose  is 
to  become  a  member  of  the  Baptist  Church  in 
Providence  when  he  arrives  there,  and  his  life 
is  to  be  passed  in  the  ministry  of  the  truth  as 
he  believes  it." 

Mr.  Hathorne  remained  silent  for  a  moment ; 
then  springing  hastily  to  his  feet,  and  thrust- 
ing his  daughter  rudely  aside,  he  paced  the 
room  in  a  storm  of  angry  excitement.  His 
children  had  never  seen  him  so  excited  before, 
and  indeed  it  generally  required  strong,  very 
strong  reason  to  arouse  to  such  a  degree  the 
dormant  fires  of  indignation  in  the  staid  Pu- 
ritan character.  It  was  with  surprise  and 
sorrow  that  the  two  eldest  witnessed  this 
unusual  outbreak  of  emotion ;  and  though 
their  reverence  for  their  parent  was  undi- 
minished,  they  could  never  reflect  upon  the 
event  of  that  evening  without  a  feeling  of  re- 
gret, of  disappointment,  mingled  with  their 
love. 

He  had  feared  this  from  the  first.  He  had 
cherished  a  serpent  in  the  security  of  his 
home,  and  now  the  venomous  reptile  was 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FA  MIL  1.       121 

ready  to  turn  upon  its  preserver.  Do  what 
he  might,  the  fact  was  undeniable,  irrevoca- 
ble— he  had  nourished  heresy  beneath  his 
roof,  he  had  soiled  his  fair  fame  by  contact 
with  that  sin  which  the  church  feared  most, 
Years  of  labor  were  undone ;  his  heart's  best 
hopes  and  desires  were  retarded  in  their  ac-' 
complishment ;  and  the  cause  of  God,  through 
his  means  partly,  had  received  a  check.  He 
was  ready  to  curse  the  day  whose  light  had 
brought  Paul  Wallingford  to  his  dwelling, 
and  in  his  heart  to  renounce  the  friendship 
whose  obligation  had  presented  the  young 
man  to  his  attention. 

At  last,  when  he  became  a  little  calmer, 
when  the  kiss,  perhaps,  was  beginning  to  do 
its  work,  Ruth  went  to  him  in  the  strength  of 
her  filial  affection  and  womanhood,  and  taking 
his  hand,  she  led  him  back  to  his  seat.  He 
sat  for  a  long  time  in  moody  silence,  no  one 
daring  to  interrupt  his  meditations.  Only 
Ruth  stood  behind  him,  and  smoothed  his 
gray  hairs  with  her  hand. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  slowly,   "I  believe  the 

young  man  has  acted  as  his  conscience,  in- 
11 


122         MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY 

fluenced  perhaps  by  the  early  instructions  of 
the  mistaken  people  around  him,  has  led  him  ; 
but  I  cannot  make  any  difference  in  my  con- 
duct on  this  account.  He  has  evil  in  his  heart 
and  poison  in  his  tongue,  and  though  I  have 
ever  loved  him  in  the  past  as  a  friend  and  as 
a  friend's  friend,  I  cannot  receive  him  beneath 
my  roof  in  the  future.  He  sets  himself  as  an 
opposer  of  my  church ;  to  me  therefore  he 
can  be  no  longer  a  friend.  He  has  my  good 
wishes  for  the  future,  but  henceforth  his  path 
and  that  of  me  and  mine  through  life  must  be 
different.  John,  you  of  course-  are  at  liberty 
to  proceed  as  you  think  fit ;  as  for  Ruth,  she 
will  remain  at  home  this  summer,  and  as  I 
forbid  your  friend  my  roof,  I  shall  expect  her 
to  see  him  no  more." 

This  was  all.  The  family  Bible  was 
brought,  and  with  unmoved  countenance  Mr. 
Hathorne  proceeded  with  the  closing  service 
of  the  day,  and  then  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold with  sad  hearts  separated  for  the  night. 

Ruth  slept  little,  for  her  disappointment  was 
a  heavy  one,  and  the  pleasant  dream  of  months 
was  not  to  be  dissipated  without  much  sorrow. 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.       123 

She  had  anticipated  with  so  much  joy  the 
pleasure  and  excitement  of  the  journey;  she 
had  longed  so  much  for  a  renewal  of  the  close 
intimacy  that  had  sprung  up  years  before  be- 
tween herself  and  the  sweet-tempered  daugh- 
ter of  Mr.  Williams,  and  she  had  not  feared 
that  her  friend  Mary,  though  her  senior  by 
more  than  a  decade  and  separated  from  her 
for  so  long  a  time,  would  forget  one  who  had 
loved  her  so  dearly.  But  now  it  must  all  be 
given  up — thought  of  no  more — for  it  could 
only  bring  her  mind  fresh  regret,  disappoint- 
ment, and  pain. 

Nor  was  this  all ;  she  was  sorry  that  their 
young  friend  would  be  wounded  and  possibly 
his  affections  estranged  by  this  severe  act  of 
her  father.  She  knew  the  susceptibility  of 
his  feelings,  and  that  so  great  an  affront 
would  be  deeply  felt,  even  though  he  under- 
stood that  it  was  not  any  personal  reason  that 
had  caused  his  banishment  from  their  family 
circle.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was  glad  that 
his  college  course  was  finished,  for  now  per- 
haps his  duties  would  not  require  his  piesence 
in  the  Bay,  and  thus  the  want  of  what  he  had 


124        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

formerly  enjoyed  would  be  felt  less ;  and  if 
John  would  still  make  the  journey  as  antici- 
pated, it  would  be  a  proof  to  Paul  that  all 
hearts  were  not  estranged  from  him.  At  last, 
just  as  the  gray  light  began  to  dawn,  her 
weary  eyes  closed  in  sleep. 

As  was  very  natural,  Mr.  Hathorne  was 
hardly  satisfied  with  himself.  His  rest,  too, 
was  for  a  time  much  disturbed,  and  before  he 
slept  he  began  to  wish  he  had  not  been  so 
hasty,  though  he  did  not  repent  of  the  man- 
date given — that  Paul  should  no  longer  be 
received  beneath  his  roof.  He  had  no 
personal  objection  to  the  young  man ;  he  had 
respected  and  even  loved  him,  as  he  said, 
and  it  troubled  him  that  he  had  made  his 
rejection  of  his  friendship  so  severe.  He 
even  regretted  that  he  had  forbidden  his 
daughter  her  anticipated  pleasure ;  though 
he  thought  he  should  not  be  sorry  ultimately, 
if  in  reality,  as  he  suspected,  there  was  an 
attachment  springing  up  between  her  and 
Paul.  But  as  for  this,  he  had  noticed  of 
late  that  Grace  claimed  a  larger  share  of  the 
young  man's  attention  than  her  elder  sister, 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        125 

and   he   really   entertained   no   serious   fears 
upon  this  point. 

Besides  all  this,  he  had  promised  that  his 
daughters  should  visit  him  who  had  been 
so  good  a  friend  to  him  in  Providence. 
He  could  not  now  withdraw  his  promise  with- 
out stating  his  reasons.  It  was  likely  that  his 
refusal  to  let  Ruth  make  the  visit  and  his 
conduct  toward  Paul  would  entirely  estrange 
Mr.  Williams  from  him.  This  alone  was  an 
important  consideration  with  him,  but  there 
were  other  considerations,  for  he  had  business 
interests  which  were  somewhat  under  the  con- 
trol of  Mr.  Williams  and  others  in  Providence. 
In  trading  with  the  natives,  Mr.  Williams 
held  the  first  place  in  their  confidence  and 
esteem  ;  and  this  good  feeling  for  their  friend 
Mr.  Hathorne  had  used  to  good  advantage, 
and  it  would  now  be  a  great  detriment  to  his 
interests  to  lose  so  powerful  an  alliance.  Mr. 
Williams,  though  unable  to  enter  the  colony 
of  the  Bay  from  the  prohibition  of  the  govern- 
ment, had  consented  nevertheless  to  assist 
Mr.  Hathorne  in  this  way,  and  one  purpose 

of  John's  visit  to  the  Plantations  was  to  com- 
11  • 


126        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

plete  further  business  arrangements  there 
through  the  good  man's  influence. 

Considering  all  things,  therefore,  the  mind 
of  Mr.  Hathorne  was  not  a  little  disturbed, 
and  as  reflection  continued  he  found  the  more 
cause  to  wish  he  had  not  been  so  hasty. 

If  Ruth  upon  her  sleepless  bed  could  have 
known  all  that  was  passing  in  her  father's 
mind,  perhaps  she  would  not  have  seen  so 
much  cause  for  disappointment  and  regret. 
But  unfortunately  she  did  not  know  her 
father's  character  well  enough  to  admit  of 
more  favorable  hopes. 

When  the  family  assembled  around  the 
breakfast-table,  Ruth  greeted  her  parents  in 
the  usual  way,  and  wore  her  accustomed 
cheerful  mien,  though  the  faces  of  the  others 
had  not  lost  the  shade  left  by  the  unpleasant 
incident  of  the  night  before.  Mr.  Hathorne 
was  stern  and  grave,  seldom  speaking  during 
the  meal,  and  casting  upon  the  rest  a  gloom 
which  the  cheerful  face  of  Ruth  and  the  forced 
gayety  of  Grace  could  not  dissipate.  When 
he  arose  from  the  table,  he  said  to  John — and 
this  was  the  only  allusion  to  the  subject — 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        127 

"John,  I  shall  expect  you  to  go  to  Provi- 
dence as  arranged,  so  you  can  continue  your 
preparations."  Then  he  went  away  to  his 
warehouse. 

Mr.  Hathorne  was  not  wholly  hypocritical 
in  character ;  though,  as  may  be  seen,  mingled 
in  large  proportion  with  his  true  love  for  the 
church  and  its  religion  was  a  veneration  for 
worldly  interests  that  one  would  not  expect  to 
find  in  a  heart  unfeignedly  devout.  In  those 
days  the  church  was  so  closely  connected 
with  every  department  of  life,  and  held  such 
great  influence  in  affairs  of  government,  that 
it  would  have  been  impossible  for  a  man  of 
Mr.  Hathorne's  aspirations  to  meet  with  any 
success  outside  of  its  pale.  Therefore,  while 
he  was  really  interested  for  the  welfare  of  his 
church,  he  still  was  keenly  alive  to  his  own 
requirements ;  and  by  taking  a  very  promi- 
nent stand  in  religious  matters,  he  sought  to 
advance  at  the  same  time  the  cause  of  the 
Puritan  and  the  interests  of  the  private  in- 
dividual. None  of  his  fellow-townsmen,  how- 
ever, would  have  suspected  him  of  any  but 
the  most  disinterested  motives,  and,  indeed, 


128       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

he  himself  was  hardly  aware  of  the  near 
approach  he  made  to  the  scribe  and  Pharisee. 
Let  us  not  judge  him  too  harshly.  The  whole 
tendency  of  the  times  was,  perhaps,  such  as 
would  readily  lead  to  this  great  error ;  and  if 
a  man  like  Mr.  Hathorne,  respected  and 
honored  alike  as  a  man  and  Christian,  was 
led  into  it,  let  us  hope  that  his  eyes  were 
blinded  by  the  fanaticism  of  the  day. 

There  was  a  change  in  his  demeanor  at 
noon.  The  firm  frigidity  had  departed,  and 
his  face  relaxed  once  or  twice  into  a  genial 
smile.  He  spoke,  too,  of  John's  departure 
with  some  interest,  and  even  went  so  far 
as  to  express  regret  that  Ruth  must  remain. 
He  said  he  hardly  thought  it  safe  to  send  her 
away  under  such  pernicious  influences,  though 
of  course  he  had  every  confidence  in  her 
Christian  steadfastness.  The  storm  was  over, 
and  perhaps  the  sun  would  yet  shine  again, 
though  not  as  brightly  as  before. 

In  the  afternoon  two  horses  were  brought 
to  the  door  with  a  message  from  Mr.  Ha- 
thorne that  John  was  very  busy,  and  he  him- 
self would  accompany  his  daughter  upon  her 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         129 

ride.  He  wished  to  see  for  himself  the  excel- 
lence of  the  newly-purchased  animal.  While 
Ruth  was  dressing  he  returned,  and  was 
ready  when  she  issued  from  her  room. 

It  was  a  happy  ride  for  Ruth,  in  spite  cf 
her  disappointment.  They  took  the  road  out 
over  the  Neck,  and  thence  through  Roxbury 
by  a  woody,  winding  way  to  Cambridge,  and 
home  by  the  ferry  across  Charles  River.  The 
horse,  a  fine  black  animal,  with  clean  limbs, 
small  head,  and  full,  broad  neck  and  breast, 
was  in  every  respect  satisfactory,  sure-footed 
and  swift,  afraid  of  nothing,  though  at  first 
a  little  timid  about  entering  the  boat  on  the 
river,  and  gentle  enough  for  a  lady's  use. 
Ruth  was  delighted ;  and  her  warm  ex- 
pressions of  admiration,  coupled  with  her 
gratitude  to  her  father  for  his  gift,  were  all 
that  was  needed  to  determine  Mr.  Hathorne 
that  he  had  been  unnecessarily  severe  to  de- 
prive his  daughter  of  so  great  a  pleasure  as 
her  journey  would  be  to  her.  Ere  they  alight- 
ed at  their  door  he  had  almost  decided  to 
allow  their  former  plans  to  be  carried  out. 

"I  have  changed  my  mind,"  he  said,  sud- 


130       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

denly,  in  the  evening,  as  he  sat  in  his  happy 
home  surrounded  by  his  family;  "Ruth 
shall  go  with  John.  If  I  cannot  trust  my 
children  to  remain  firm  in  the  faith  of  their 
father  when  exposed  to  such  slight  opposing 
influence  as  young  Wallingford's  generous 
nature  will  give  them,  I  can  have  little  confi- 
dence in  the  principles  themselves  which  con- 
stitute that  faith.  But  God  forbid  that  the 
taint  of  heresy  should  come  upon  them  ! 

"As  I  said  last  night,  I  have  always  re- 
spected Wallingford.  I  can  no  longer  extend 
my  hospitality  to  him.  Nevertheless,  I  pity 
him,  and  pray  for  him  that  his  errors  may 
be  brought  to  his  clear  sight ;  and  I  tell  you 
frankly,  my  daughter,  it  is  with  this  end  in 
view,  as  one  of  my  reasons  that  I  send  you 
with  John,  that  the  influence  may  be  strong 
upon  this  mistaken  young  man,  and  that  he 
may  yet  be  reclaimed." 

Ruth  tearfully  thanked  her  father  and  went 
away  to  her  room.  Poor,  foolish  little  heart  I 
as  she  had  not  slept  before  for  sorrow,  so  to- 
night she  lay  awake  from  very  joy. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  JOURNEY   TO   PROVIDENCE. 

|AUL  came  no  more  to  Mr.  Hathorne's 
dwelling,  no  more  to  the  roof  he  had 
rejoiced  to  call  his  home ;  and  though 
he  had  expected  to  be  shut  out  by  its  doors, 
now  that  he  actually  found  them  closed  against 
him  the  world  seemed  darker  than  he  had 
thought  it  would.  In  the  solitude  of  his  little 
room  at  college  the  sense  of  loneliness  pressed 
so  heavily  upon  him  that  he  was  glad  he  was 
so  soon  to  leave  it  for  his  distant  home.  John 
had  ridden  over  to  see  him  the  morning  after 
Ruth's  ride  with  her  father,  and  had  told  him 
everything  that  occurred  the  day  before.  It 
was  some  comfort  to  Paul  that  both  John  and 
Ruth  were  as  much  his  friends  as  ever,  and 
he  was  surprised  as  well  as  rejoiced  that  their 
journey  with  him  was  not  to  be  given  up 

131 


f32        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

but  it  was  none  the  easier  to  bear  that  he 
must  no  longer  see  them  save  at  the  rare  in- 
tervals when  John  could  ride  over  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  Ruth —  But  he  should  not  see 
her  again,  probably,  until  they  met  for  their 
journey. 

It  was  yet  three  weeks  before  the  collegiate 
year  would  close  and  they  would  leave  Boston, 
but  the  time  passed  quickly  enough  to  Ruth 
and  John,  busied  as  they  were  with  the  prep- 
arations necessary  for  such  an  important  event ; 
and  even  to  Paul,  though  so  lonely  and  some- 
times almost  disheartened,  it  did  not  seem  so 
very  long,  for  there  was  much  to  hold  his  at- 
tention— his  closing  examinations,  his  prepa- 
ration for  the  commencement,  and  his  pro- 
vision for  departure.  Paul  saw  Ruth  but 
twice  before  they  were  to  set  out  for  Provi- 
dence. Once,  as  Mr.  Hathorne  was  riding 
with  his  daughter  past  the  college,  they  met 
him  in  the  street ;  when  he  bowed  Ruth  smiled 
a  glad  recognition,  but  her  father  passed  him 
by  without  notice.  The  second  time  was  on 
commencement-day — that  day  of  so  much  im- 
portance in  the  little  colony,  when  every  one 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.       133 

who  could  leave  home  or  business,  though  re- 
quiring weeks  of  anxious  preparation,  pressed 
on  eagerly  to  Cambridge  to  attend  upon  the 
exercises  of  the  occasion.  Paul  had  seen 
John  earlier  in  the  morning,  but  he  did  not 
know  of  Ruth's  presence  until  he  ascended 
the  stage  to  deliver  his  oration.  Then  his 
eyes  met  hers.  Her  calm,  thoughtful  face 
was  full  of  eager  expectation,  and  as  he 
gazed  upon  it  he  was  conscious  of  a  thrill  of 
delight  passing  through  his  frame.  He  felt 
that  his  audience  had  vanished  away,  that  in 
that  one  attentive  listener  was  centred  all  his 
interest.  The  eloquent  words  fell  from  his 
lips  with  a  pathos  seldom  known  within  the 
walls  of  the  old  building,  and  his  deep,  clear 
voice,  in  perfect  modulations,  was  like  music 
to  the  ear.  When  he  finished  there  was  a 
breathless  silence  for  an  instant,  and  then  a 
loud  murmur  of  admiration  ran  through  the 
assembly.  Paul  heard  but  did  not  heed  it. 
He  was  already  pressing  his  way  to  where 
Ruth  sat,  and  though  he  could  speak  but  a 
word  with  her,  for  the  crowd  was  passing 
from  the  building  and  her  father's  voice  spcke 

12 


1 34        MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

to  her  from  a  little  distance,  he  counted  her 
welcome  smile  of  approbation  of  more  value 
than  all  the  applause  of  the  multitude. 

So  at  last  the  day  came  when  they  were  to 
leave  Boston.  It  was  a  bright,  pleasant  day, 
the  soft  breezes  murmuring  through  the  trees, 
and  the  birds  caroling  their  praises  to  the  God 
who  had  made  the  world  so  beautiful.  Ruth 
arose  with  a  glad  heart  as  soon  as  the  early 
light  peeped  in  at  the  window.  There  were 
still  a  few  things  remaining  to  be  done — her 
chickens  to  be  fed  for  the  last  time  for  many 
weeks ;  the  mossy  seat  beneath  the  rose- 
covered  bower  in  the  garden  to  be  visited,  the 
place  where  so  many  happy  hours  had  been 
passed  with  her  mother  and  Grace ;  then  re- 
turning to  her  room,  there  was  her  Bible  to 
pack  and  the  last  charges  to  be  given  to 
Grace,  whom  she  awoke  with  a  kiss ;  there 
were  "  good-byes"  to  be  said  through  her 
sister  to  many  a  fair  friend,  and  messages  too 
many  to  be  all  remembered ;  and  last,  when 
little  Willie,  sleeping  in  his  bed,  had  been 
kissed  and  the  horses  stood  waiting  at  the 
door,  when  the  breakfast  had  been  tasted 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        135 

but  not  eaten,  and  all  were  assembled  to  bid 
the  travelers  farewell,  her  mother  hung  so 
long  and  fondly  on  her  neck  that  Ruth  almost 
wished  she  could  give  up  the  journey,  even  at 
this  late  hour,  and  let  John  ride  away  alone. 
But  quickly  her  brother  called  her  from  the 
courtyard,  and  almost  before  she  knew  it  she 
was  in  the  saddle  and  waving  a  last  adieu 
with  her  little  gloved  hand  as  they  rode  out 
into  the  street. 

We  have  iron  horses  now  and  a  clear,  level, 
unobstructed  way  over  which  we  can  speed 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour  toward 
the  city  that  Roger  Williams  founded  more 
than  two  centuries  ago.  To  us  it  may  seem 
worthy  of  a  smile  that  emotion  should  be  ex- 
cited by  a  parting  for  so  short  a  distance  as 
that  which  can  be  annihilated  by  a  two  hours' 
pleasant  ride.  But  let  it  be  remembered  that 
in  the  days  of  our  story  it  was  a  journey  of 
perhaps  four  or  five  days,  by  rough  and,  in 
many  places,  perilous  roads,  oftentimes  so 
winding  that  they  would  turn  again  toward 
the  point  from  which  they  had  set  out ;  and 
after  the  traveler  had  gone  beyond  the  vicinity 


13^       MASTER   HATHORNE  S  FAMILT, 

of  the  settled  towns  only  foot-paths  through 
the  thick  forests  would  lead  to  his  destination. 
It  was  an  undertaking  of  some  danger  for 
Ruth,  and  she  felt  that,  before  the  end  of  the 
journey  was  reached,  she  should  need  all  the 
strength  and  fortitude  she  could  summon  to 
her  aid.  It  was  no  light  thing  for  men  to  un- 
dertake the  passage  of  a  wilderness  haunted 
by  wild  beasts,  and  possibly  hostile  Indians ; 
and  no  expedition  of  the  kind  was  ever  made 
without  an  abundant  supply  of  firearms  and 
a  strong  band  to  use  them.  For  a  woman, 
then,  it  was  doubly  difficult,  and  a  task  not 
very  often  attempted.  Our  friends,  however, 
had  completed  the  necessary  arrangements 
very  satisfactorily,  and  they  anticipated  .no 
trouble  during  the  three  or  four  days  they 
should  spend  on  the  way ;  and  though  the 
tears  of  the  mother  and  daughter  could  not  be 
restrained  at  parting,  the  excitement  of  the 
road  soon  banished  all  disquieting  thoughts 
from  the  mind  of  Ruth,  and  her  spirits  re- 
gained their  wonted  flow.  They  were  to 
meet  Paul  at  a  point  between  Cambridge  and 
Watertown,  where  the  guide  was  also  to  join 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.      137 

them ;  thence  they  were  to  proceed  the  rest 
of  the  way  together,  their  party  having  been 
completed  by  this  meeting. 

Before  they  arrived  at  the  appointed  place 
they  met  Paul,  who  had  grown  tired  of  wait- 
ing for  them,  and  had  ridden  slowly  in  the 
direction  from  which  they  were  to  come.  He 
was  accompanied  by  Long  Solomon,  who 
was  to  act  as  their  guide  through  the  forest. 
The  stern  face  of  the  red  man  was  lighted  up 
by  a  passing  gleam  of  intelligent  joy  as  he 
greeted  Ruth  with  his  extended  hand  after 
the  manner  of  the  pale  faces,  but  his  satisfac- 
tion was  so  suppressed  and  its  manifestation 
so  momentary,  in  accordance  with  the  native 
stoicism  of  the  Indian  character,  that  Ruth 
did  not  notice  it.  Paul,  however,  who  was 
better  acquainted  with  the  man's  habits,  and 
who  watched  his  countenance  narrowly  as 
Ruth  spoke  to  him,  was  gratified  by  what 
he  saw,  for  he  knew  that  their  safety  for  the 
journey  depended  in  great  measure  upon  the 
Indian.  He  was  pleased,  therefore,  to  see 
his  evident  interest  in  Ruth. 

After  a  few  minutes'  delay  the  party  pro- 
12  » 


138        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

ceeded  on  their  way,  taking  up  now  the  order 
of  march  that  they  intended  to  preserve  during 
the  whole  journey.  Though  as  yet  his  services 
were  not  required,  since  they  would  have  a 
good  road  for  many  miles,  Long  Solomon 
took  the  advance,  moderating  his  pace  to 
the  speed  of  the  party.  The  Indian  was  on 
foot,  but  he  had  the  red  man's  power  of 
endurance,  and  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
keeping  by  the  side  of  those  who  were 
mounted.  Following  in  the  rear  of  Solomon 
and  in  the  immediate  van  of  the  party,  were 
two  hardy  Puritan  yeomen,  who  had  been 
engaged  to  accompany  the  expedition  for  the 
better  protection  01  the  travelers.  Each  of 
these  men  was  armed  with  a  musket  slung  at 
the  back,  a  sword  and  pike,  the  latter  at 
least  ten  feet  in  length  besides  the  spear- 
head at  the  end.  After  them  rode  John  and 
Paul  with  Ruth  between  them,  while  the 
rear  was  brought  up  by  two  friendly  Indians, 
whose  confidence  had  been  tested  during  the 
Pequod  war,  and  who  often  served  upon  occa- 
sions like  the  present. 

John  was  mounted  upo-n  a  strong  and  heavy 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        139 

roan,  an  animal  devoid  of  any  trace  of  beauty, 
but  well  adapted  to  the  rough  travel  of  the 
wilderness.  The  young  Puritan's  accoutre- 
ments were  all  of  a  like  character,  utility 
alone  having  been  consulted  in  their  prepara- 
tion and  disposal  about  his  person.  He  wore 
at  his  side  a  sword,  as  did  the  other  white 
men  of  the  party,  and  two  formidable  pistols 
were  at  his  saddle-bow,  ready  for  his  hand  at 
an  instant's  notice. 

Ruth's  whole  appearance  was  in  striking 
contrast  to  that  of  her  brother.  Her  slight 
figure  was  habited  in  a  plain  dress  of  gray, 
which  fell  at  the  side  of  her  horse  in  flowing 
folds  that  waved  gently  backward  in  the 
breeze.  A  case  containing  a  cup  and  a 
small  platter  of  silver,  for  her  use  at  meals, 
was  strapped  upon  the  horn  of  the  saddle, 
while  a  small  leathern  roll  at  the  back  of  the 
saddle  contained  all  the  other  conveniences 
for  the  journey. 

Paul  was  well  equipped  in  every  respect, 
riding  an  iron-gray  horse  of  tried  endurance, 
and  being  even  more  fully  armed  than  John. 
He  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  overjoyed  at 


140        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

meeting  Ruth  again  and  at  the  prospect  of  so 
pleasant  a  journey  to  his  home. 

They  rode  only  a  few  miles  beyond  Water- 
town,  when  a  halt  was  made  because  of  the 
excessive  heat.  It  was  their  plan  to  travel 
during  the  earlier  and  later  hours  of  each  day, 
thereby  lengthening  the  time  of  the  journey, 
but  escaping  the  great  fatigue  of  summer 
travel  over  the  rough  roads  and  difficult 
bridle-paths  which  they  would  have  to  follow. 
A  little  apart  from  the  road,  beneath  the  pro- 
tecting shade  of  some  tall  chestnuts  that  formed 
a  grove  by  themselves,  they  alighted  and  dis- 
posed themselves  to  get  what  rest  they  could 
for  the  few  hours  they  should  remain.  Pau) 
found  an  uncovered  and  twisted  root  thai 
formed  a  sort  of  natural  seat,  and  here  Ruth 
was  comfortably  settled,  with  the  two  young 
men  reclining  near  her  upon  the  soft  turf. 
Withal,  it  was  a  picturesque  group. 

The  horses  were  tethered  in  the  back 
ground,  and  near  them  stood  the  two  sturdy 
men,  the  guard  of  the  party,  leaning  idly 
against  a  huge  trunk  and  conversing  in  low 
tones ;  the  three  Indians  were  stretched  at 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        141 

length  on  the  sward  in  a  group  by  themselves, 
their  easy  attitude  determined  by  their  native 
grace.  At  a  little  distance  a  pure  spring 
bubbled  up  from  beneath  a  large  overhang- 
ing rock,  and  after  spreading  out  in  a  pool  of 
clear  brightness,  the  waters  rippled  over  a 
pebbly  bed  till  they  were  lost  among  the 
trees. 

Our  young  people  were  fully  alive  to  the 
beauties  of  the  scene,  and  for  some  time,  as 
often  the  perfection  of  nature  is  best  enjoyed 
in  silence,  they  did  not  break  the  quiet  with 
their  voices.  At  last  it  was  noticed  that  Solo- 
mon had  withdrawn  from  his  companions  and 
was  following  the  little  stream  away  into  the 
forest.  Paul  marked  the  fact,  and  asked  one 
of  the  natives  whom  he  called  to  him  if  the 
pool  before  them  was  called  the  Cold  Water 
of  Spring-time — Saunko-paugot  Sequan  in  the 
melodious  Narragansett  tongue.  The  answer 
was  in  the  affirmative,  and  explained  to  Paul 
the  reason  of  Solomon's  departure ;  and  as 
they  rested  beneath  the  shade,  he  told  the 
others  the  Indian's  story. 

In  earlier  years,  when  still  the  white  man 


142        MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

had  not  leveled  the  trees  of  the  forest  nor 
frightened  the  timid  deer  from  their  leafy 
haunts,  when  the  man  who  was  now  old  had 
seen  but  twenty  summers,  he  had  been  a  man 
of  note  in  his  tribe.  In  their  significant  lan- 
guage he  was  known  as  the  Snake  of  the 
Forest,  wily,  watchful,  deadly  as  the  reptile 
whose  name  he  bore.  The  aim  of  his  arrow 
was  sure,  its  poison  fatal ;  and  whether  in  the 
hunt  or  upon  the  war-path,  it  needed  but  the 
name  of  the  Snake  to  be  known  in  the  band, 
and  every  heart  was  confident  of  success.  Thus 
for  ten  years  more,  after  the  landing  of  the 
white  men  at  Plymouth,  the  Indian  chief  was 
untamed ;  but  then  there  came  a  day  when 
the  man  who  would  only  take  the  Indians' 
lands  by  fair  purchase  invited  the  Snake  to  a 
conference.  The  fierce  native  had  never  be- 
fore looked  upon  the  face  of  a  white  invader 
of  his  realms  with  aught  but  fury  in  his  eye, 
but  now  his  savage  heart  was  not  proof 
against  the  righteous  dealings,  the  kind  con- 
sideration, the  winning  mildness  of  Roger 
Williams.  As  the  hearts  of  all  the  natives 
brought  into  contact  with  that  peculiarly  gifted 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.        143 

man  were  allied  to  his  in  friendship,  so  the 
cunning    Snake    of   the    Forest,    the   sworn 
enemy  of  the  pale-faced  foe,  yielded  to  the 
benign  influence,  and  was  glad  of  the  white 
man's   love.     From    that    day   there   was    a 
change  in  the  stern  chief's  character.    He  was 
still  successful  in  the  hunt ;  his  name  was  no 
less  a  terror  to  his  enemies  than  it  had  ever 
been ;  but  his  enemies  were  fewer ;  he  sought 
more  the  friendship  of  the  whites,  particularly 
striving  for  further  intercourse  with  the  man 
who  had  gained  his  love.     It  was  one  summer 
while  he  was  encamped  in  the  neighborhood 
of   the    trading-post    established    by    Roger 
Williams  that  an  event  occurred  which   in- 
fluenced greatly  his  future  life.     An  epidemic 
malarious  fever   broke  out   in  his  tribe   and 
snatched  away  the  lives  of  hundreds  of  those 
about  him.     Day  after  day  the  braves  fell; 
there  was  no  way  of  meeting  this  destroyer ; 
the   cunning  and  the  bravery  of  the  Snake 
could  do  no  good ;  he  must  be  passive  and 
witness  the  ghastly  stride  of  Death  without 
an  attempt  to  check  his  progress.     The  chief 
sat  in  the  door  of  his  tent  and  saw  his  people 


144       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

die.  Soon  the  living  would  be  too  few  to 
bear  away  the  dead ;  soon  he  too  should  lie 
beneath  the  ground  with  his  bow  at  his  side 
and  the  arrows  resting  on  his  breast.  Then 
at  last  there  came  some  help.  The  white 
father  learned  of  their  distress,  and  moved 
from  lodge  to  lodge,  his  presence  bringing 
hope  and  often  the  beginning  of  a  return  of 
health  to  the  dying.  Slowly  the  disease 
began  to  abate,  but  it  was  not  till  the  red 
man's  heart  had  been  well  stricken ;  the 
youth,  his  only  son,  his  pride  and  hope  for 
the  future,  the  destined  chief  of  his  people, 
had  been  taken  from  his  side,  and  his  lodge 
was  vacant. 

As  the  season  came,  the  broken  chief  with 
the  poor  remnant  of  his  tribe  departed  for 
their  hunting-grounds  farther  in  the  interior 
of  the  country ;  and  as  the  years  passed  on 
the  evil  began  to  be  repaired  and  his  people 
approached  their  former  number.  But  the 
heart  of  the  red  man  never  recovered  the 
blow  given  it  by  the  hand  of  God.  His 
family  had  perished ;  the  braves  with  whom 
he  had  trodden  the  war-path  so  often  had 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.       145 

been  destroyed  ;  the  high  rank  of  his  tribe  was 
gone  for  ever ;  his  pride  was  extinguished, 
and  he  hoped  no  more. 

At  last,  in  one  of  the  seasons  when  he  was 
encamped  near  Providence,  the  man  whom 
this  poor  son  of  the  forest  almost  worshiped 
came  to  visit  him  in  his  lodge.  While  partak- 
ing of  his  hospitality,  Mr.  Williams,  as  was 
his  wont,  conversed  cheerfully  with  him  of 
the  religion  of  Christ.  This  was  not  the  first 
time  the  chief  had  listened  to  the  good  man's 
words,  but  now  his  soul  was  ready  for  God's 
blessing.  He  saw  how  unsatisfactory  was 
the  religion  of  his  fathers,  how  powerless  it 
was  to  console  and  heal  the  broken  heart. 
He  listened  entranced  to  the  simple  words 
that  fell  from  the  good  man's  lips,  and  when 
he  departed  from  his  dwelling,  he  prayed  him 
to  teach  him  further  of  the  Master  whom  he 
longed  to  serve.  Several  times  after  this  the 
Indian  sought  interviews  with  his  friend,  and 
he  treasured  up  in  his  heart  the  instruction  he 
received.  Then  for  days  he  wandered  in  the 
forest,  avoiding  the  companionship  of  his 
fellows,  particularly  that  of  his  tribe.  The 
n  K 


146        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

solitude  of  the  woods  awed  his  soul ;  the  God 
of  the  white  men  was  everywhere,  even  here 
with  him  as  he  sat  by  his  fire  at  night  ponder- 
ing the  mighty  truths  that  were  taking  fast 
hold  upon  his  soul ;  and,  more  than  this,  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  was  speaking  to  him,  telling 
him  of  his  death  for  man.  At  length,  as  it 
comes  to  the  heart  of  every  chosen  one,  the 
conviction  came  to  him  that  for  love,  for 
infinite,  holy,  divine  love  for  poor  sinful  man, 
God's  Son  could  even  die ;  and  in  that  death 
he  saw  the  proof  of  the  love  of  Jesus  to  him- 
self. Then  he  returned  to  seek  his  friend, 
but  in  this  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment, 
for  Mr.  Williams  had  sailed  the  day  before 
upon  his  first  voyage  to  England.  Without 
counsel,  but  acting  in  accordance  with  the 
promptings  of  his  heart,  he  returned  to  his 
tribe.  He  told  them  of  the  change  in  him- 
self; of  his  long  struggle  and  of  the  new  God, 
the  only  true  and  great  Father,  the  ever- 
blessed  Saviour  whom  he  had  found.  He 
had  not  expected  the  storm  of  fury  that  burst 
upon  him  from  those  who  had  been  accustom- 
ed to  submit  to  his  authority.  In  his  brief 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         147 

absence  an  enemy  had  risen  up  to  dispute  his 
sway,  and  now  this  man  stirred  up  the  people 
against  him,  seizing  eagerly  the  pretext  offer- 
ed by  his  chief's  abjuration  of  the  religion  of 
his  ancestors.  Stung  to  the  quick  by  the 
ingratitude  of  his  people,  the  forsaken  chief 
wandered  away  into  voluntary  exile.  He  had 
now  no  friend  but  God,  but  as  he  turned  his 
back  upon  the  familiar  lodge,  his  heart, 
though  filled  with  sadness,  yet  found  no  dis- 
appointment in  the  love  of  his  Saviour,  and  he 
was  glad  because  this  Friend  would  be  always 
the  same,  not  only  for  this  life,  but  for  the  great 
future  beyond  the  grave. 

The  haunts  of  the  red  man  were  now  for- 
saken. He  came  to  look  upon  the  beautiful 
town-  near  the  mouth  of  the  Mooshausick  as 
his  home,  for  there  he  found  that  true  sympa- 
thy that  he  so  much  needed.  Here  he  dwelt 
for  years,  subsisting  upon  the  products  of  his 
skill  in  the  hunt,  and  occasionally  acting  as  a 
guide  to  travelers  between  the  settlements, 
and  ever  adding  from  day  to  day  to  his  know- 
ledge of  the  great  truths  whose  cause  he  had " 
espoused. 


148        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

At  last,  in  the  year  1650,  he  was  employed 
to  conduct  the  Reverend  John  Clarke  and  his 
companions  upon  their  journey  to  the  bay,  and 
on  this  eventful  occasion  his  conviction  became 
settled  that  it  was  his  duty  to  unite  with 
the  body  of  Christians  in  whose  midst  he  had 
dwelt  so  long,  and  whose  doctrines  his  simple 
mind  found  no  difficulty  in  accepting.  The 
heart  of  the  man  was  touched  by  the  persecu- 
tion his  friends  suffered  in  Boston — by  their 
imprisonment  and  the  fines  imposed  upon 
them  or  the  alternative  of  public  scourging. 
When  he  was  to  conduct  Mr.  Clarke  back 
again  to  Newport,  he  informed  him  of  his 
desire  to  become  a  member  of  the  visible 
church  of  Christ ;  and  with  his  native  im- 
petuosity he  requested  that  he  might  be 
baptized  at  once.  Upon  their  way  they 
came  to  the  beautiful  spring  of  water  by 
which  this  story  was  now  told,  and  the 
Indian,  leading  the  way  along  the  course 
of  the  little  stream  for  nearly  a  mile,  until 
it  spread  out  into  a  little  lake,  was  baptized 
in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        149 

It  was  evident  to  both  of  his  listeners,  now 
that  Paul  had  told  them  the  history  of  their 
guide,  whither  Solomon  had  gone,  and  the 
eyes  of  Ruth  filled  with  sympathetic  tears  as 
she  thought  of  the  lonely  red  man  sitting  by 
the  side  of  the  waves  beneath  which  he  had 
been  buried  in  baptism,  recalling  to  his  mind 
the  blessed  hour  and  pondering  upon  the  joys 
and  the  terrible  sorrows  of  the  past.  His 
history  had  been  varied — its  commencement 
brilliant,  and  its  later  years  solitary  and  sad, 
yet  surrounded  with  a  halo  of  peace  such  as 
the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away. 
Hence  it  impressed  her  mind  forcibly,  and 
gave  rise  to  a  feeling  of  affectionate  regard 
and  almost  reverence  for  the  man  which  she 
had  not  hitherto  possessed.  But  her  thoughts 
could  not  dwell  longer  upon  this  subject,  for 
her  brother  and  Paul  were  discussing  with 
animation  a  theme  that  had  been  suggested 
by  a  part  of  the  story  to  which  she  had  just 
listened.  She  had  often  heard  mentioned 
the  visit  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Holmes  of  Newport 
and  his  companions  to  Lynn ;  but  as  the  event 

had  taken  place  some  time  before  the  arrival 
is  » 


150       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

of  Mr.  Hathorne's  family,  all  the  circum- 
stances had  not  come  to  her  knowledge. 

"  It  was  with  clear  foresight  of  this  very 
thing,"  Paul  was  saying,  "  that  Mr.  Williams 
wrote  and  published  his  work  in  1644.  'The 
Bloody  Tenet'  was  a  prediction,  fulfilled 
somewhat  sooner,  probably,  than  its  author 
anticipated ;  for  I  do  not  think  he  dreamed 
that  in  only  seven  years'  time  Baptists  would 
be  cruelly  whipped,  and  a  little  later 
Quakers  would  be  hung.  I  admit  that  in 
this  case  of  the  persecution  of  Clarke,  Holmes, 
and  Crandall  there  was  some  provocation 
upon  their  part,  but  a  provocation  so  slight 
as  not  to  warrant  the  punishment  inflicted. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  spirit  of  the  *  Bloody 
Tenet'  existing  in  the  hearts  of  the  magistrates 
and  ministers  of  the  Bay,  a  servant  of  God 
visiting  an  old  and  sick  brother,  even  though 
he  held  religious  worship  at  his  host's  house, 
would  never  have  been  punished." 

"If  it  had  been  only  as  you  say,  there 
would  have  been  little  excuse  for  the  conduct 
of  the  government,"  John  replied.  "But 
Clarke  was  well  aware  that  his  presence  in 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        151 

the  bay  would  create  trouble.  He  had  left 
the  colony,  fourteen  years  before,  under  cir- 
cumstances that  made  his  departure  little  else 
than  a  voluntary  banishment,  and  for  seven 
years  a  law  had  existed  under  which  he 
could  expect  nothing  but  punishment  if  he  re- 
turned. A  man  of  such  keen  judgment,  of 
intelligence  and  resolution,  ought  to  have  hesi- 
tated long  before  disturbing  willfully  the  peace 
of  a  community.  I  have  always  suspected, 
too,  that  he  timed  his  visit  more  in  reference 
to  political  troubles  than  to  the  necessities  of 
his  sick  friend.  I  confess  I  may  be  uncharita- 
ble in  saying  this,  but  I  fear  it  is  the  truth." 

Paul's  face  wore  a  shadow  of  displeasure. 

"I  have  heard  this  charge  made  before," 
he  said,  his  dark  eye  flashing,  "but  I  beg  you 
to  dismiss  such  a  thought  as  unworthy  of  re- 
tention. I  acknowledge  that  appearances 
would  support  the  charge ;  Coddington  was 
expected  daily  with  his  commission  from 
England,  and  Clarke  must  have  known  that 
by  his  own  persecution  in  Massachusetts  the 
Baptists  at  his  home  would  be  excited  to  op- 
pose the  ascendency  of  the  man  who  was 


152       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

plotting  to  unite  the  colony  of  pure,  religious 
liberty  with  the  confederacy  that  represented 
oppression  and  tyranny.  But  it  is  only  his 
enemies  that  charge  him  with  this  wicked- 
ness, for  it  is  nothing  else.  I  did  not  know 
him  then,  of  course,  for  I  was  too  young  to 
take  an  interest  in  such  an  event  or  in  the 
actor,  though  he  often  visited  my  father's 
house;  but  for  the  last  five  years  I  have 
known  him  well,  and  I  believe  there  could  be 
nothing  farther  from  his  heart  than  to  take 
any  part  in  so  disgraceful  an  action.  His 
character  is  too  eminently  Christian  for  him 
to  consent  to  such  a  means  of  obtaining  a 
political  end.  But  consider  the  improbabilities 
that  he  would  do  so,  even  if  he  could  be  base 
enough.  His  sacred  office,  his  recently  ac- 
quired position  as  assistant  in  the  government, 
the  influence  he  had  gained  also  from  his  resi- 
dence in  their  midst  for  fourteen  years,  gave 
him  a  prominence  in  the  eyes  of  his  friends 
that  would  have  given  the  greatest  weight 
to  any  opinions  he  might  have  expressed. 
Would  he  have  given  up  the  sure  means  of 
personal  labor  against  the  opponent  of  his 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FAMILT.       153 

principles,  by  meeting  him  face  to  face  and  by 
urging  on  his  friends  to  his  own  support,  for 
the  uncertain  influence  which  the  action  of 
another  colony  would  have  upon  the  minds 
of  those  he  wished  to  move,  while  he  himself 
was  so  far  distant  from  them?  It  is  more 
than  improbable." 

"I  am  glad  you  have  removed  the  un- 
pleasant conviction  I  had,"  John  returned, 
candidly;  "though  I  am  sorry  that  my  opin- 
ions of  the  action  of  the  magistrates  must  be 
changed  for  the  worse.  But  it  still  seems  to 
me  your  friends  were  wrong  to  violate  the  law 
existing  against  them,  and  to  take  those  steps 
which  they  knew  would  exasperate  their  ene- 
mies and  disturb  the  colony.** 

"I  agree  with  you  partially.  They  might 
have  forborne  to  preach  in  Mr.  Writer's  house, 
except  to  him  and  his  family,  though  I  cannot 
think  they  were  absolutely  wrong  in  doing  so, 
particularly  as  they  took  no  pains  to  assemble 
a  congregation  and  as  there  were  only  four  or 
five  strangers  present  at  most.  But  it  is  evi- 
dent to  me  they  were  right  in  going  to  Lynn, 
for  the  law  of  God  is  higher  than  the  law  of 


154          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

man  ;  and  if,  by  its  teaching,  Mr.  Clarke  saw 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  visit  his  brother,  who  was 
sick,  aged,  and  liable  to  persecution  at  any 
moment,  and  while  with  him  to  hold  religious 
services  for  their  mutual  comfort  and  to  ad- 
minister the  sacrament,  it  was  but  a  practical 
recognition  of  the  superiority  of  divine  over 
human  law." 

"You  know  my  sentiments  have  changed 
lately  in  regard  to  the  proceedings  of  states 
against  individual  conscience,  and  so  I  cannot 
approve  the  arrest  made  for  this  cause.  But 
the  penalty  affixed  by  the  government  was 
not  wholly  undeserved.  The  conduct  of 
Clarke  in  the  meeting  was  such  as  to  pro- 
voke the  authorities  and  give  them  reason  to 
make  the  punishment  severe." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  they  were  angered," 
Paul  said,  smiling  a  little,  "  and  I  am  ready 
to  make  this  excuse  for  them.  But  consider 
the  case.  Two  constables  arrested  the  party, 
and  then,  before  taking  them  to  prison  as 
common  criminals — which  they  afterward  did 
— for  no  other  purpose,  it  seems  to  me  than 
to  insult  them,  they  led  them  to  the  meeting 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       155 

and  forced  them  to  enter.  What  could  they 
do  under  such  circumstances?  By  force  they 
were  made  to  partake  in  a  service  to  which 
they  could  lend  neither  assent  nor  recogni- 
tion ;  and  when  Clarke,  after  the  close  of  the 
exercises,  boldly  and  manfully  asserted  his 
dissent  and  explained  truthfully  the  reason  of 
his  presence,  he  performed  a  duty  which  he 
owed  to  his  conscience  and  to  the  principles 
for  which  he  was  called  to  suffer." 

John  did  not  seem  disposed  to  contest  the 
point  further,  and  as  they  were  at  that  moment 
summoned  to  the  noonday  meal,  the  subject 
was  dropped.  Enough  had  been  said,  how- 
ever, to  start  a  train  of  thought  in  Ruth's 
mind  that  was  to  have  a  great  influence 
upon  her  future  life. 

Paul,  who  acted  as  the  leader  of  the 
party,  intended  to  advance  a  few  miles  farther 
and  pass  the  night  at  a  little  log-house  about 
a  mile  from  their  direct  path,  where  a  beauti- 
ful sheet  of  water  spread  out  between  the  hills 
and  offered  facilities  to  the  Indians  for  spear- 
ing fish  for  their  supper.  Accordingly,  they 
set  out  again  as  soon  as  the  heat  became  less 


I56       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

oppressive,  when  the  sun  was  within  two  or 
three  hours  of  the  horizon.  At  this  rate  their 
course  would  be  slow,  but  Paul  was  determin- 
ed to  make  the  journey  as  much  like  a  pleas- 
ure excursion  for  Ruth  as  possible. 

As  they  left  the  chestnuts  that  had  afforded 
them  such  grateful  shelter  from  the  noonday 
heat,  John  rode  forward  a  few  paces  and  fell 
into  conversation  with  the  two  men  who  ac- 
companied the  party,  and  the  three  Puritans 
took  little  heed  of  the  others  behind  them. 
Ruth  seized  the  opportunity  to  ask  Paul,  who 
was  still  at  her  side,  about  the  event  which 
had  formed  the  subject  of  conversation  be- 
tween John  and  himself  in  the  morning.  She 
was  glad  John  was  engaged  apart  from  them- 
selves, for  she  was  unwilling  to  lead  the  two 
young  men  into  another  discussion,  thinking 
it  better  that  little  should  be  said  between  them 
upon  questions  relating  to  their  different  re- 
ligious beliefs,  at  least  during  this  journey. 

Then  Paul  told  her  the  story  of  the  per- 
secution of  those  three  men  in  the  year 
1651. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


THE    STORY   OF    OB  AD  I  AH    HOLMES. 

j|E  began  by  laughingly  telling  Ruth 
that  he  had  resolved  to  shun  every 
attempt  to  make  her  or  John  a  prose- 
lyte to  his  own  faith,  since  her  father  had 
tacitly  trusted  his  honor  in  this  respect  by  al- 
lowing her  to  make  the  journey,  and  there- 
fore, if  he  should  say  anything  tending  to 
such  a  result, she  must  bear  the  responsibility. 
Ruth  laughed  gayly,  the  merry  sound  causing 
John  to  turn  and  smile  in  sympathy.  She 
said  that  there  was  little  need  of  even  guard- 
ing against  such  a  result.  Then  as  they  rode 
together,  each  forgetting  the  company  of  the 
others,  he  spoke,  in  substance,  as  follows  : 

There  was  a  little  body  of  Baptists  at  Lynn, 
in  1640,  who  continued  still  to  reside  there 

14  157 


1 58        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

after  the  passage  of  the  law  against  them, 
their  orderly  ways  and  their  avoidance  of 
all  efforts  to  force  their  views  upon  public 
notice  gaining  some  degree  of  tolerance  from 
the  government.  One  of  these  Baptists, 
William  Witter  by  name,  an  aged  man  and 
ill,  sent  a  message  to  the  church  in  Rhode 
Island,  praying  for  the  visit  of  some  of  the 
brethren,  that  his  old  age  might  not  be  with- 
out the  comfort  and  counsel  to  be  afforded 
only  by  those  still  engaged  in  the  active  duties 
of  a  Christian  life.  His  request  was  promptly 
met  by  the  appointment  of  three  representa- 
tives of  the  church,  Messrs  Clarke,  Holmes, 
and  Crandall.  Their  hearts  full  of  love  and 
Christian  sympathy  for  the  aged  man  whom 
they  were  to  visit,  the  three  pursued  their 
journey,  hardly  thinking  of  the  dangers  to 
which  they  were  subjected,  and  little  expect- 
ing to  be  brought  to  so  much  suffering  for 
their  deed  of  love. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  Mr.  Witter's  house, 
about  two  miles  out  of  the  town,  as  it  was 
Saturday,  they  arranged  to  spend  the  follow- 
ing day  in  religious  worship  at  their  host's 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        159 

dwelling.  Accordingly  upon  the  Lord's  Day 
morning  Mr.  Clarke  began  the  services  in  the 
usual  manner,  four  or  five  of  the  neighbors, 
also  Baptists,  having  come  together  to  listen 
to  the  words  for  which  they  had  long  patiently 
waited.  The  hymn  was  sung,  the  Scriptures 
read  and  expounded,  and  the  prayer  uttered. 
Then  Mr.  Clarke  rose  to  preach  from  the  text, 
' '  Because  thou  hast  kept  the  word  of  my  pa- 
tience, I  also  wilt  keep  thee  from  the  hour  of 
temptation,  which  shall  come  upon  the  world, 
to  try  them  that  dwell  upon  the  earth."  While 
illustrating  the  meaning  of  the  text,  the  little 
assembly  was  suddenly  disturbed.  The  mag- 
istrates had  received  intelligence  of  the  pres- 
ence of  the  strangers,  and  now  the  officers 
were  at  the  door  to  apprehend  them.  Sor- 
rowfully they  submitted  and  were  led  away, 
for  what  trials  they  knew  not. 

With  a  refinement  of  insult  hardly  con- 
ceivable, the  officers  forced  their  prisoners  to 
accompany  them  to  the  meeting-house,  where 
the  congregation  were  assembled  at  worship. 
Mr.  Clarke  and  his  companions  plainly  told 
the  constables  what  would  be  the  necessary 


160       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

result  of  such  a  proceeding ;  but  they  were 
deaf  to  all  entreaty  or  remonstrance,  evidently 
anticipating  some  action  on  the  part  of  their 
prisoners  that  would  be  still  further  offensive. 
When,  therefore,  the  prisoners  entered  the 
house  of  worship,  "as  those  that  first  trusted 
in  Christ,  to  be  obedient  unto  him  both  by 
word  and  deed,"  they  declared  their  dissent 
from  the  doctrines  of  those  into  whose  midst 
they  were  forced  by  voice  and  gesture.  From 
the  meeting  they  were  conducted  to  the  inn 
where,  as  Mr.  Clarke  afterward  wrote,  they 
were  "watched  over  night  as  thieves  and 
robbers,"  and  the  next  morning  were  taken 
before  the  magistrate  and  committed  to  prison. 
After  a  weary  imprisonment  of  two  weeks, 
the  court  of  assistants  passed  sentence  upon 
them.  Mr.  Clarke  was  to  pay  a  fine  of 
twenty  pounds,  Mr.  Holmes  of  thirty,  and 
Mr.  Crandall  of  five,  or  be  publicly  whipped. 
Neither  of  the  persecuted  men  would  consent, 
by  payment  of  the  fine,  to  buy  himself  off 
from  the  full  measure  of  suffering  which  was 
to  be  endured  for  the  sake  of  Christ.  They 
were  therefore  remanded  to  prison. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         l6l 

Contrary  to  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Clarke,  and 
without  his  knowledge,  some  of  his  friends 
paid  his  fine,  and  he  was  soon  released.  Mr. 
Crandall,  released  upon  his  promise  of  ap- 
pearing at  the  next  court,  was  not  notified  of 
the  time  of  its  sitting,  and  his  fine  was  ex- 
acted of  the  keeper  of  the  prison  upon  his 
non-appearance.  But  Mr.  Holmes  was  des- 
tined to  a  worse  fate.  Detained  in  prison 
until  September — it  was  July  when  he  was 
arrested — the  day  for  his  punishment  at  last 
came.  He  still  refused  to  act  save  in  accord- 
ance with  the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  and 
was  bidden  to  prepare  himself  for  his  dis- 
grace. In  the  morning  his  friends  visited 
him  in  prison,  but  to  all  their  offers  of  refresh- 
ment or  of  stimulants  to  prepare  him  for  his 
dreadful  ordeal,  he  turned  a  deaf  ear,  fearing 
lest  the  cause  for  which  he  suffered  would  be 
injured  if  it  should  be  said  he  was  made 
strong  to  bear  his  pain  by  aught  else  than  the 
love  of  Christ  in  his  heart.  With  prayer  and 
inward  communings  of  the  soul  with  itself 
and  with  its  Lord,  he  awaited  calmly  the 
appointed  hour ;  and  when  the  keeper's  voice 

14*  L 


1 62        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

was  heard  in  the  passage,  he  took  his  Testa- 
ment in  his  hand  and  rose  to  meet  him.  At 
the  place  of  execution  he  stood  with  un- 
daunted mien  and  spoke  to  the  people,  de- 
claring "the  word  of  God  and  the  testimony 
of  Jesus  Christ"  for  which  he  suffered ;  and 
when,  stripped  to  the  waist  and  bound  to  the 
cruel  post,  the  blows  of  the  three-corded  whip 
fell  upon  him,  cutting  the  flesh  with  each 
stroke  so  that  the  red  blood  ran  in  streams, 
he  still  spoke,  saying  that  though  his  flesh 
should  fail  and  his  spirit  should  fail,  yet  his 
God  would  not  fail. 

"You  have  struck  me  as  with  roses,"  he 
said  to  the  executioner  when  at  last  he  stayed 
his  arm  and  loosed  the  'bands  that  held  the 
sufferer  to  the  stake.  As  he  was  borne  back 
to  prison,  two  friends  came  and  took  him  by 
the  hand,  and  expressed  sympathy  for  his 
condition ;  the  act  was  remembered  and  pun- 
ished by  fines.  Mr.  Holmes,  faint  and  bleed- 
ing, was  borne  to  his  cell,  where  a  friend  cared 
for  his  wounds,  while  the  sufferer  soon  became 
insensible  from  his  pain. 

In  a  manuscript  written  a  hundred  years 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       163 

ago  by  Governor  Jenks,  he  says:  "Mr. 
Holmes  was  whipt  thirty  stripes,  and  in  such 
an  unmerciful  manner,  that  in  many  days,  if 
not  some  weeks,  he  could  take  no  rest  but  as 
he  lay  upon  his  knees  and  elbows,  not  able 
to  suffer  any  part  of  his  body  to  touch  the 
bed  whereon  he  lay." 

We  can  hardly  believe  that  such  an  event 
as  this  took  place  in  Boston  but  little  more 
than  two  centuries  ago.  With  all  the  en- 
lightment  of  the  present  age,  with  the  bless- 
ing of  religious  freedom  as  firmly  in  our  pos- 
session as  any  of  the  civil  rights  guaranteed 
by  government,  it  is  with  horror  that  the 
darkness  of  those  early  days,  the  depth  of 
error  and  fanaticism,  come  to  our  considera- 
tion. 

Paul  told  the  story  without  any  attempt  to 
make  the  naked  facts  appear  more  horrible 
than  they  naturally  would  to  Ruth's  mind. 
When  he  had  finished  the  recital  they  rode 
on  in  silence,  both  feeling  the  sadness  excited 
by  the  contemplation  of  so  dreadful  a  deed. 
Paul  could  not  help  thinking  that  he  might 
yet  be  called  upon  to  suffer  like  pain  and  dis- 


164        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

grace  should  his  duties  of  the  future  not  be 
confined  to  his  own  colony.  Moreover,  he 
already  loved  the  little  band  of  brethren  to 
whose  service  he  had  consecrated  his  life, 
and  it  was  with  inexpressible  sorrow  that  he 
thought  of  the  fierce  persecutions  which  they 
were  called  to  endure. 

As  for  Ruth,  her  soul  was  filled  with  hor- 
ror. Could  it  be  possible  that  such  a  deed 
had  been  enacted  in  sight,  perhaps,  of  her 
own  home  by  the  men  upon  whom  she  had 
always  looked  as  leaders  in  the  cause  of  God's 
love?  Yes.  She  had  forgotten  for  the 
moment,  so  lost  had  she  been  in  the  thought 
of  this  one  deed,  what  her  own  eyes  had 
seen,  what  groans  of  anguish  her  own  ears 
had  heard.  She  shuddered  as  she  thought  that 
her  father's  hands  might  have  been  imbrued 
in  this  innocent  blood  had  their  arrival  been 
a  few  years  earlier ;  and  her  cheek  blanched 
as  she  reflected  that  she  herself,  unwittingly 
and  tacitly  it  is  true,  had  given  her  approba- 
tion to  such  a  deed  by  her  membership  with 
the  church  which  had  performed  it.  Yet  the 
thought  came  to  her  instantly,  she  must  keep 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        165 

her  place  in  its  midst,  for  she  did  not  doubt 
the  truth  of  its  doctrines  and  the  divine  sanc- 
tion of  its  ordinances. 

She  was  glad  when  they  reached  the  little 
hut  that  was  to  serve  as  their  shelter  for  the 
night,  for  the  preparations  for  rest  recalled 
her  mind  from  the  sad  theme  upon  which  it 
was  dwelling.  Still,  as  the  little  party  sat 
at  their  evening  meal  about  the  shining  blaze 
of  the  fire  and  in  the  quiet  of  the  sombre  twi- 
light, the  thought  of  what  she  had  heard 
would  steal  in  upon  her  mind,  and  the  sight 
of  the  bleeding  victim,  and  of  the  distant  wife 
and  children  weeping  for  the  absent  father's 
fate,  more  than  once  brought  the  tears  to  her 
eyes.  She  could  not  sleep  for  a  long  time 
that  night,  and  when  at  last  her  eyelids  closed 
in  slumber  she  dreamed  that  her  father  was 
bleeding  beneath  the  cruel  blows  before  his 
own  door,  and  awoke  with  a  cry  of  terror 
upon  her  lips. 

The  next  day  it  was  much  cooler  than  it 
had  been,  yet  with  all  their  endeavors  to  take 
advantage  of  the  favorable  wreather  they  could 
only  advance  about  twenty  miles ;  yet  they 


1 66       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

were  well  satisfied  at  the  progress  they  had 
made  when  they  came  to  encamp  at  night. 
The  next  night  they  would  sleep  in  Provi- 
dence, having  passed  a  much  shorter  time 
upon  the  journey  than  they  had  anticipated. 

The  Indians  constructed  a  shelter  out  of 
bark  and  leafy  boughs,  within  which  Ruth 
could  be  shielded  from  the  dew.  The  night 
in  the  depth  of  the  forest  was  somewhat  chilly, 
although  it  was  the  middle  of  summer.  So, 
at  an  early  hour,  Ruth  wrapped  herself  in  a 
warm  cloak,  lay  down  upon  the  rude  couch 
spread  for  her,  and  soon  fell  asleep.  Paul 
and  John  sat  up  much  later  by  the  fire,  con- 
versing in  low  tones,  the  former  occasionally 
singing  to  himself  the  words  of  an  old  Latin 
hymn  on  which  he  had  spent  many  happy 
leisure  hours,  attempting  to  translate  it  into 
English  that  should  preserve  at  once  the 
spirit  and  rhythm  of  the  original.  John 
could  not  have  translated  the  words,  though 
he  knew  their  meaning,  for  Paul,  with  whom 
the  grand  old  hymn  was  a  favorite,  had  often 
repeated  it  in  his  presence,  and  had  once,  at 
his  request,  given  him  a  translation.  Now 


MASTER   HATHORNB'S   FAMILT.        167 

the  shadowy  silence  of  the  night  was  broken 
by  no  sound  save  the  deep  voice  of  the  singer, 
who  chanted  the  verses  in  a  low  tone  to 
melodious  music  which  his  own  correct  taste 
had  applied. 

After  he  had  ended  there  was  a  little 
pause,  when  John  said  to  him  : 

"Paul,  I  pity  your  lot,  that  your  convic- 
tions of  the  right  must  lead  you  to  unite  with 
a  down-trodden  and  persecuted  sect.  When 
we  were  talking  yesterday  of  the  sufferings 
of  Mr.  Clarke  and  his  companions,  I  won- 
dered how  you  could  recall  such  an  event 
with  so  much  calmness ;  and  I  tried  to  place 
myself  in  your  situation,  to  think  what  would 
be  my  feelings  if  I  could  look  into  the  future 
and  read  there  for  myself  either  the  anguish 
of  an  unsatisfied  conscience  or  the  certainty, 
almost,  of  trouble  and  persecution.  Paul, 
I  respect  the  manhood  that  can  so  rely  upon 
itself;  and  though  I  cannot  assent  to  the  doc- 
trines of  which  you  are  a  defender,  I  believe 
that  in  that  future  rest  you  will  have  the  sceptre 
and  the  crown  of  a  child  of  God.  We  are 
going  now  to  your  home,  but  if  you  ever 


1 68        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

have  occasion  to  come  again  to  Boston,  re- 
member that  you  always  have  my  sympathy 
and  friendship.  I  speak  of  this  now,  for  this 
is  the  last  night  we  may  pass  together,  and  I 
know  not  how  much  we  shall  see  each  other 
at  Providence." 

Paul  pressed  his  friend's  hand  in  silence, 
while  his  eyes  were  filled  with  grateful  tears. 
He  felt  peculiarly  to-night  the  need  of  just 
such  a  friendship  as  this,  for  he  knew  not 
what  the  morrow  might  have  in  its  keeping 
for  him.  He  was  going  to  his  home,  it  was 
true,  but  it  was  a  home  where  no  mother's 
kiss  would  greet  him,  where  only  his  father's 
welcome  awaited  him — a  welcome  that  he 
feared  might  soon  be  turned  into  a  father's 
frown,  for  his  son  had  yet  to  tell  him  of  the 
disappointment  of  his  hopes,  of  the  change 
that  had  come  over  the  future  of  both.  Paul 
trembled  as  he  thought  that  he  might  be 
doubly  an  orphan  ere  another  night  should 
succeed  the  day,  and  it  was  with  joy  that  he 
now  had  the  assurance  again  given  him  that 
all  his  earthly  friends  would  not  fail  him  in 
his  trouble. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       169 

After  a  silence  of  a  moment,  Paul  thanked 
his  friend  in  tremulous  tones,  and  said : 

"The  words  of  the  hymn  which  I  sang  say 
there  all  will  be  rest  and  glory,  however  the 
troubles  of  the  world  may  vex  us  here.  There 
we  shall  see  our  everlasting  Friend,  whom 
each  of  us  is  trying  to  serve  in  his  own  way — 
the  way  which  he  believes  is  shown  to  him  by 
God.  There  may  be  error  here,  but  the  hymn 
says  that  all  doubt  shall  there  be  dissolved, 
and  we  can  only  live  here  in  the  hope  of  that 
glorious  day.  Ah,  John,  what  a  blessing  our 
faith  is !  I  wonder  any  one  can  live  without 
it !  It  is  a  marvel  to  me  that  I  could  so  long 
do  without  its  beautiful  hopes,  its  longing  de- 
sires, its  blissful  satiety.  Oh,  my  friend,  it  is 
a  thing  to  suffer  for,  it  is  a  thing  for  which  to 
give  up  one's  life,  if  the  glorious  cause  re- 
quire." 

The  young  man  had  risen  to  his  feet  as  he 
spoke,  his  face  glowing  with  enthusiasm  and 
his  black  eye  kindled  with  the  flame  of  de- 
vout and  holy  zeal.  John  was  electrified  by 
the  deep  and  powerful  feeling  manifested  by 
his  friend.  He  arose  from  the  ground  and 

15 


17°        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

stood  by  his  side  ;  then  taking  his  hand  in  his 
own,  he  said : 

"  I  too,  Paul,  if  my  God  demands  it  of  me, 
am  ready  to  follow  him  to  death.  Paul,  here 
to-night,  beneath  these  shadowy  arches  of  the 
vast  temple  in  which  we  stand,  let  us  dedicate 
ourselves  again  to  his  service,  whatever  we 
may  find  it  to  be  in  the  future."  Then  after 
a  little  pause,  he  continued,  as  he  linked  his 
arm  in  that  of  his  friend  and  commenced 
walking  back  and  forth  before  the  fire : 
"Paul,  I  am  troubled.  I  would  not  have  her 
know  it,"  he  said,  glancing  hastily  toward 
Ruth,  who  still  was  sleeping  sweetly,  "but  I 
have  thought  much  of  late  of  the  faith  you 
have  accepted  as  your  own.  I  am  in  the 
strait  of  Mr.  Mitchell,  the  minister  at  Cam- 
bridge, who  said,  after  his  conversation  with 
President  Dunster,  that  'unreasonable  sug- 
gestions' would  obtrude  themselves  upon  his 
thought;  but,  unlike  him,  I  cannot  ascribe 
them  to  the  devil.  Give  me  your  help,  Paul. 
Tell  me  again  the  truth  as  you  believe  it." 

Paul  was  surprised  beyond  measure.  Could 
it  be  that  so  great  a  blessing  was  in  store  for 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        l?i 

him?  Was  this  young  man,  so  eager  for  the 
right,  so  strong  in  spirit,  no  longer  to  be  ar- 
rayed against  his  persecuted  brethren,  but  to 
become  a  defender  of  their  faith?  He  hardly 
dared  to  hope  it ;  still  he  was  not  deceived ; 
John  was  asking  him  again  for  the  truth  of 
the  word  of  God.  Paul  sat  down  by  the  fire, 
and  taking  a  Testament  from  his  pocket,  he 
began  to  read  some  passages  to  his  com- 
panion. 

After  he  had  read  several  parts  of  the 
Gospels  which  relate  particularly  to  that 
doctrine  of  the  Baptists  which  had  given 
them  their  name,  he  closed  the  book  and 
turned  to  his  friend  with  the  simplest  but 
best  argument  for  the  faith  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  can  add  nothing,"  he  said ;  "  the  truths 
that  I  have  read  to  you  are  those  on  which  I 
found  my  belief,  and  it  is  to  these  truths,  un- 
supported by  any  other  evidence  than  that  the 
word  of  God  is  true,  unaided  by  subtile  argu- 
ment or  profound  logic,  that  I  am  willing  to 
entrust  the  faith  I  have  accepted  as  my  own. 
The  waves  of  opposition  may  roll  and  dash 
against  it  from  your  councils,  but  I  fear  not 


/72       MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

the  security  of  the  word.  Human  reason  can 
not  touch  this  truth.  It  is  solely  the  possession 
of  divine  revelation ;  it  is  a  law  from  which, 
to  my  mind,  there  is  no  appeal,  and  the 
decree  of  synods,  even  the  usages  of  antiquity, 
can  in  no  way  affect  its  authority.  I  have  de- 
termined, John,  through  all  my  course  to  rely 
upon  this  argument  alone  for  the  support  of 
my  faith,  for  it  is  impregnable." 

"  Is  this  all,  then,  that  you  have  to  urge?" 
John  asked,  with  a  shade  of  disappointment 
upon  his  face. 

"This  is  enough,"  Paul  answered,  gazing 
earnestly  upon  his  companion's  face.  "Others 
would  undoubtedly  press  other  claims.  I  sup- 
pose President  Dunster  must  have  canvassed 
all  the  ground  to  have  made  such  a  man  as 
Mr.  Mitchell  admit  as  much  as  you  have 
mentioned  he  did.  But  I  am  willing  to  leave 
my  cause  with  you,  relying  for  its  support 
solely  upon  the  truth  of  the  Bible — solely 
upon  the  foundation  God  himself  has  given 
it." 

"But  I  am  not  sure  that  the  original  is 
correctly  translated  in  these  instances." 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.       173 

"You  are  willing  to  accept  the  translation 
for  other  parts  of  the  Bible.  I  only  ask  you 
to  accept  this  as  candidly,  though  it  opposes 
your  opinions.  Besides  this,  the  validity  of 
the  translation  is  questioned  by  very  few 
scholars.  It  is  not  upon  this  point  that  the 
arguments  of  your  church  are  founded,  at 
least  the  arguments  most  worthy  of  considera- 
tion. It  is  freely  admitted  by  many  of  your 
best  representatives  that  infant  baptism  has 
not  the  authority  of  the  Scriptures,  but  they 
found  their  belief  in  it  upon  ancient  custom, 
upon  church  history,  as  they  say.  Even 
admitting  that  they  have  the  authority  of  the 
ancient  church — which,  I  think,  is  far  from 
being  true — you  will  agree  with  me  upon 
deliberation  that  the  ground  will  not  bear 
comparison  with  the  Scriptures.  This  one 
of  our  doctrines  is  strong  enough  in  the  great 
authority  we  claim  for  it,  and  we  have  no  fear 
that  the  worth  of  that  authority  will  ever 
fail." 

"  But  this  is  only  one  of  the  points  in  which 
you  differ  from  us,"  said  John. 

"  Another  is  what  you   have  already  ac- 

15* 


174         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

cepted :  Freedom  of  conscience  and  the 
separation  of  Church  and  State.  Besides  this, 
and  the  doctrine  that  the  immersion  of  be- 
lievers is  the  only  baptism  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, we  hold  that  the  sacraments  are  in- 
operative without  faith,  and  that  conversion 
alone  can  entitle  one  to  membership.  These 
are  the  most  important  principles  of  the  Bap- 
tist faith." 

The  young  Puritan  sat  in  silence,  his  head 
resting  upon  his  hand,  engaged  in  deep 
thought.  He  cared  not  now  for  a  support  of 
these  doctrines ;  the  mere  enunciation  of 
them  was  enough  to  occupy  his  mind  with 
attendant  thoughts  and  rivet  his  attention  in 
their  study.  He  had  never  before  known  so 
clearly  what  the  tenets  of  this  persecuted 
people  were ;  the  doctrine  of  baptism  by  im- 
mersion and  the  denial  of  infant  baptism  were 
points  in  the  Baptist  creed  which  were  par- 
ticularly distasteful  to  the  Puritan  mind,  and 
these  other  articles  of  faith  were  generally 
but  little  considered ;  it  was  enough  for  the 
intolerant  spirit  of  the  times  that  the  sect  was 
polluted  by  one  stain  of  heresy,  and  this  stain 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.         175 

was  black  enough  to  throw  all  others  into  the 
shade.  It  was  for  the  first  time,  then,  thai 
John  Hathorne  now  thought  of  these  doc- 
trines, which  have  been,  since  those  early 
days,  the  cherished  belief  of  so  many  of 
God's  children.  As  he  looked  upon  them 
and  pondered  them  now,  he  was  surprised 
that  he  found  so  little  in  them  that  was  really 
contrary  to  his  own  views.  He  saw  that  they 
were  greatly  at  variance  with  the  teachings 
of  his  own  church,  but  of  late  he  had  learned 
not  to  trust  so  implicitly  to  the  truth  of  those 
teachings,  for  he  had  found  his  personal  ex- 
perience taking  him  beyond  their  reach  in 
some  instances. 

One  of  his  most  cherished  recollections  was 
of  the  time  when  a  great  change  had  taken 
place  in  his  life,  when  religion  had  suddenly 
assumed  a  new  aspect  to  him  and  when  his 
soul  had  received  a  new  blessing,  as  he  al- 
ways termed  the  peaceful  love  of  God  and 
Christ  that  filled  it  with  joy  unspeakable. 
Now  he  asked  himself  whether  this  was  the 
conversion  upon  which  the  Baptists  placed  so 
much  stress.  He  had  loved  God  before  this 


176       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

change,  he  thought;  but  his  heart  told  him 
that  there  was  a  new,  a  better,  a  holier  love 
dwelling  in  it  now — a  love  recognizing  as  its 
origin  the  bleeding  heart  of  the  Saviour  of 
men.  Yes !  there  had  been  a  change,  a  con- 
version— something  of  more  value  to  him  than 
any  other  event  of  his  life  ;  and  if  it  was  this 
upon  which  the  Baptists  founded  the  right  to 
church  membership,  he  must  believe  with 
them.  This  was  the  new  birth  of  the  third 
chapter  of  John.  This  it  was  to  believe  ;  but 
to  "believe  and  be  baptized,"  ah  !  he  was  not 
yet  ready  for  that.  When  the  question  ad- 
vanced to  this  point,  the  old,  old  objection 
came  up  :  How  could  so  many  great  and  good 
men  be  mistaken  in  a  practice  of  centuries? 
Surely  he  could  not  go  astray  if  he  followed 
in  the  footsteps  of  his  fathers  !  He  lifted  his 
eyes,  as  he  thought,  and  they  fell  upon  the 
form  of  their  native  guide ;  instantly  the  old, 
old  objection  was  met  and  answered  for  ever ; 
the  savages  of  the  forest,  for  generations  he 
knew  not  how  many,  had  followed  in  the 
footsteps  of  their  ancestors,  but  their  ways 
were  only  ways  of  black  darkness  and  error 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S    FA  MILT.        If? 

"The  sacraments  inoperative  without  faith." 
He  found  himself  repeating  the  words  over 
and  over  again.  What  did  they  mean,  except 
that  the  institution  of  the  church  was  not  for 
the  fostering  of  sin?  that  the  protection  of  its 
fold  was  only  for  the  believers  in  Christ?  that 
the  broken  body  of  the  Saviour  was  given  for 
the  nourishment  of  those  that  received  him,  that 
had  faith  in  his  atonement? 

Far  into  the  night  the  young  man  sat  by 
the  fire  and  communed  with  his  thoughts. 
The  flames  died  away,  and  the  smouldering 
embers  emitted  now  and  then  a  faint  flash  of 
light,  that  shone  dimly  upon  his  face.  Paul 
had  long  since  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak 
and  thrown  himself  down  to  sleep.  The 
young  Puritan  was  alone,  and  the  silent 
grandeur  of  the  forest  solitude  began  to  awe 
his  soul.  Imperceptibly  at  first  his  thoughts 
began  to  be  recalled  from  the  attentive  study 
tD  which  they  had  been  devoted  ;  the  fire  was 
too  low  for  the  emission  of  heat,  and  a  chilly 
sense  of  loneliness  made  the  silence  oppres- 
sive. He  made  an  effort  still  to  follow  out 
the  train  of  thought  which  he  had  been  last 

M 


178       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

pursuing,  but  his  attention  had  become  avert- 
ed, the  terrible  silence  still  forced  itself  upon 
his  mind,  and  he  found  the  attempt  vain. 

Perhaps  that  mysterious  influence  so  often 
exerted  upon  the  mind  by  which  sleep  can 
be  broken  by  the  mere  presence  of  a  person 
standing  over  the  slumberer — by  which,  too, 
the  thoughts  are  directed  to  a  friend  who  has 
been  absent  many  months  but  the  next  moment 
speaks  in  our  presence — may  have  caused  his 
temporary  uneasiness.  He  was  just  about  to 
rise  and  retire  to  the  shelter  provided  for  him, 
when  a  low  whisper  startled  him.  It  came 
from  the  guide,  who  was  lying  upon  the 
ground  a  few  feet  from  where  he  was  sitting. 
He  had  thought  the  Indian  was  asleep,  but 
now  the  words  came  directly  to  John's  ear  : 

"  Go  !  Be  still ;  lie  down  and  make  sleep  I 
Solomon  watch !" 

John  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  follow 
out  the  Indian's  instructions  with  manifest 
composure,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was,  to  all 
appearance,  in  a  sound  sleep. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    TREACHEROUS    ATTACK. 

j|OR  nearly  an  hour  all  was  still,  wh.le 
John  Hathorne  lay  quietly  in  a  feign- 
ed slumber,  all  his  nerves  upon  the 
stretch  to  catch  the  first  signs  of  the  approach- 
ing danger.  He  began  to  think  the  Indian 
must  have  been  mistaken  in  his  fears — at  the 
time  there  were  no  hostilities  between  the 
natives  and  the  colonists — and  was  somewhat 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  Solomon's  sudden 
alarm.  The  only  thing  that  occurred  to  him 
as  in  any  way  possible  was  the  approach  of 
some  one  of  the  small  bands  of  Indians, 
marauders,  hardly  belonging  to  any  tribes, 
which  at  very  rare  intervals  had  been  known 
to  attack  travelers  for  the  sake  of  booty  or 
ransom  of  the  captives  that  might  be  taken. 

Neither  John  nor  Paul  had  noticed  the  ab- 

179 


I  So       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

sence  of  the  Indians  of  the  party  early  in  the 
evening,  so  engaged  had  they  been  with  their 
conversation.  But  though  they  were  unaware 
of  the  threatened  danger,  they  had  a  trusty 
guard  in  the  person  of  their  native  guide. 
He  did  not  allow  it  to  escape  him  that  the 
other  two  Indians  stole  away  into  the  forest 
after  the  encampment  had  been  arranged  for 
the  night.  His  keen  eye  had  seen  reason  for 
distrusting  them  through  all  the  second  day 
of  the  journey,  and  now  he  followed  their 
trail  with  stealthy  footsteps,  darting  from  one 
cover  to  another  and  just  keeping  their  dusky 
forms  in  view  as  they  glided  away  into  the 
depths  of  the  forest.  Thus  he  followed  them 
for  nearly  two  miles,  when  suddenly  a  light 
gleamed  through  the  openings  of  the  woods 
and  the  objects  of  his  pursuit  stood  in  the 
presence  of  a  band  of  eight  stalwart  Indians. 
Then  creeping  with  noiseless  tread  near  to 
the  council-fire,  he  listened  to  the  traitors ; 
plans.  They  were  to  attack  the  party  that 
night  and  in  the  confusion  that  would  ensue 
rob  them  of  what  little  baggage  they  carried. 
The  two  traitors  were  to  set  fire  to  the  half- 


.MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         iSl 

enclosed  hut  where  Ruth  was  sleeping,  and 
then,  under  the  pretext  of  taking  her  to  a 
place  of  safety,  were  to  bear  her  away  to  a  se- 
cure haunt  to  be  retained  until  a  large  ransoi; 
saould  be  paid.  The  plan  was  well  laid ;  the 
two  would  return  at  once  and  lie  down  to 
sleep  at  a  seasonable  hour,  and  be  ready 
for  the  approach  of  their  companions  at  an 
advanced  hour  of  the  night. 

Solomon  learned  it  all,  and  his  own  ex- 
perience taught  him  all  that  must  be  known 
in  addition,  and  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  destroy 
their  hopes  and  keep  his  little  party  unharm- 
ed, though  his  foes  were  more  than  twice  the 
number  of  his  own  force.  He  sped  back 
to  his  place  by  the  camp-fire  with  only  time 
enough  to  assume  a  position  of  negligent  ease 
before  the  return  of  the  two  Indians.  When 
he  uttered  his  whispered  warning  to  John,  he 
was  so  near  him  that  there  was  no  possibility 
of  the  treacherous  red-skins  hearing  his  voice, 
for  contrary  to  the  usual  custom  they  had 
thrown  themselves  down  for  their  feigned 
slumber  at  a  little  distance  from  the  guide 
and  the  party,  though  still  near  enough  not 

16 


1 82          MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT, 

to  excite  suspicion.  All  had  their  weapons 
where  they  could  seize  them  at  an  instant's 
warning,  so  that  the  carefully  arranged  arms 
of  the  two  hostile  Indians  and  of  Solomon 
could  have  awakened  no  mutual  distrust. 

For  nearly  an  hour  all  was  still  in  the  forest. 
Then  John  caught  the  note  of  a  distant  whip- 
poor-will.  Soon  it  was  repeated,  and  a  few 
minutes  after  he  heard  it  again,  a  little  nearer. 
So  this  strange  whip-poor-will  continued  slowly 
to  approach,  until  its  note  was  quite  near  and 
loud  enough  to  draw  the  attention  even  of  one 
who  had  not  been  listening  for  it. 

John  had  felt  the  time  had  come,  for  what 
he  knew  not.  The  bird  hushed  its  signal 
note.  All  was  perfect  stillness.  His  eyes 
half  closed,  John  lay  in  almost  breathless 
suspense,  his  lips  compressed,  his  heart  beat- 
ing quickly  and  a  cold  chill  of  fear  running 
through  his  frame.  Yet  the  young  Puritan 
was  brave.  The  coward  is  he  only  who 
yields  to  his  fear;  the  hero  trembles  in  the 
presence  of  danger,  but  still  shrinks  not  from 
the  performance  of  his  duty. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.     The  sharp  re- 


MASTER  HATUORNE'S  FAMILY.        183 

port  of  a  musket  reverberated  through  the 
forest  arches.  In  an  instant  all  were  aroused 
and  upon  their  feet,  arms  in  hand.  John 
called  to  his  companions  to  keep  close  to  the 
guide  and  obey  him  in  everything,  and  then, 
saying  one  word  of  encouragement  to  Ruth 
as  he  passed  by,  he  rushed  to  the  aid  of 
Solomon  and  the  two  Puritan  guards,  who 
were  surrounded  by  more  than  double  their 
number,  and  who  had  as  much  as  they  could 
do  to  defend  themselves  with  their  pikes  and 
swords.  The  contest  was  so  close  and  the 
attacks  of  the  red-skins  so  vigorous  that  the 
smaller  firearms  could  not  be  used,  and  John 
and  Paul  could  not  have  recourse  to  these 
weapons  nor  to  the  muskets  for  fear  of  wound- 
ing their  friends. 

The  impetuous  rush  of  John  and  Paul  for 
an  instant  bore  back  the  assailants,  and  two  or 
three  of  the  Indians  darted  to  the  cover  of 
neighboring  trees;  but  Solomon  had  closed 
with  one  of  his  foes,  and  they  were  locked  in 
a  struggle  for  life,  each  trying  to  prevent  his 
adversary  from  drawing  the  keen  knife  from 
his  belt.  Paul's  quick  eye  detected  the  gleam 


184         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

of  a  blade  behind  a  tree  which  the  two  com- 
batants were  rapidly  nearing  in  their  struggle. 
Leaving  John  and  two  soldiers  to  cope  with 
the  three  or  four  opposing  them,  he  sprang  to 
Solomon's  relief;  but  no  sooner  was  this  move- 
ment observed  than  the  sharp  report  of  a 
musket  sounded  on  the  air  and  a  ball  whizzed 
past  his  ear,  fired  by  one  of  the  red-skins  from 
the  cover  he  had  sought.  Undeterred,  Paul 
raised  his  sword  to  thrust  the  guide's  antago- 
nist through;  the  blade  descended,  but  with 
uncertain  aim,  for  a  quick,  sudden  sting  un- 
nerved his  arm,  and  he  only  succeeded  in 
giving  the  savage  a  wound  upon  the  shoulder. 
This  was  enough,  however,  to  give  Solomon 
a  little  the  advantage  and  to  allow  him  time 
to  see  that  Paul  was  at  his  side. 

"Back!  back!"  he  cried,  with  a  gesture 
of  alarm.  "  Ladee  !  Care  ladee  !  Solomon 
kill  these  Injin  man  !" 

Paul  comprehended  in  an  instant  the  guide's 
fears.  He  turned  to  hasten  to  Ruth,  whose 
safety  he  had  taken  for  granted  if  the  fierce 
attack  of  the  enemy  could  be  frustrated.  But 
now  as  he  turned  to  retrace  his  steps  his  heart 


MASTER   IIATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.       185 

sickened  within   him,   for  suddenly   a  bright 
light  leaped  up  from  the  little  lodge  where  he 
had   left  her,   and  in  the  glow  he  saw  two 
dusky  forms  spring  into  the  doorway  and  seize 
upon  the  maiden.     He  leaped  forward,  but  he 
was  stayed  in  his  course.     Two  savages  threw 
themselves  in  his  path  with  their  empty  mus- 
kets clubbed  and  raised  above  him.     His  first 
impulse  upon  seeing  the  Indians  in  the  lodge 
was  to  draw  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  though  he 
could  not  fire  before  the  Indians  seized  upon 
Ruth.     The  weapon  was  still  in  his    hand, 
and  instantly  a  bullet  pierced  the  heart  of  the 
red-skin  nearest  him.     Still  he  had  more  than 
a  match  in  the  other  savage.     A  gleam  of 
triumph  flashed  across  the  stern  features  of 
his  foe,  as  his  raised  musket  descended  with 
a  murderous  blow;   but  Paul's  raised  sword 
broke   the   force   of   the   shock,   the   faithful 
weapon   falling   to  the   ground,   shattered  to 
pieces.     Still  he  did  not  escape  wholly,  for 
the  heavy  stock  fell  upon  his  right  shoulder, 
striking  him  to  the  earth.     His  head  swam 
as  he  sank  down,  and  the  last  thing  he  re- 
membered to  have  seen  was  the  poor  maiden 

16  » 


l86         MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

still    struggling    with    her    captors    amid    the 
dancing  flames.     Then  all  was  dark. 

The  savage  drew  the  glittering  knife  from 
his  belt  and  stooped  over  the  young  man's 
prostrate  form.  He  turned  the  body  over  on 
its  face,  but  before  his  dreadful  purpose  could 
be  accomplished  he  fell  backward  with  a  bullet 
through  his  brain.  John  raised  his  friend  and 
supported  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  as  Paul 
opened  his  eyes  he  told  him  that  the  fight  was 
over  and  the  Indians  fled. 

"There  goes  the  last  of  the  rascals" — 
John's  face  was  turned  away  from  the  burn- 
ing lodge — "  and  they've  had  enough  of  their 
bargain.  Three  dead,  and  as  many  pretty 
badly  used,  though  they  have  managed  to  get 
away.  They  found  us  better  prepared  than 
they  expected." 

Paul  started  quickly  from  his  friend's  sup- 
port and  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Ruth!"  he 
cried.  "  Where  is  she?"  and  then  without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  he  staggered  away 
toward  the  spot  where  he  had  last  seen  her, 
struggling  in  the  hands  of  the  savages. 

John  sprang  quickly  with  a  cry  of  pain  and 


MASTER    HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         187 

terror,  and  followed  him.     It  had  been  but  a 
half  minute  since  he  had  put  his  own  antago- 
nist to  flight  and  sped  to  the  rescue  of  Paul, 
and  not  an  instant  had  he  had  for  thought. 
The  bright  light  of  the  flames  had  sprung  up 
while  his  every  energy  was  upon  the  strain  in 
defence  of  his  own  life,  and  it  had  escaped 
him  that  it  was  the  lodge  that  was  burning. 
Indeed,  all  that  we  have  related  took  place  in 
so  short  a  time,  only  a  few  minutes,  and  the 
danger  of  each  combatant  was  so  great,  that 
no  one  of  the  party,  save  the  guide,  had  any 
regard  to  the  things  outside  of  his  own  vicinity. 
Everything  had  been  done  by  instinct,  upon 
mere    impulse ;    and    indeed,    had    any   one 
thought  of  Ruth,   nothing   could  have   been 
done  ;  the  assailants  were  too  many,  and  as  in 
Paul's  case  the  attempt  would  have  been  vain. 
But  now  all  were  roused  to  a  sense  of  the 
danger     they    had     neglected — the    greatest 
danger  of  all.     The  ruins  of  the  little  lodge 
were  still  burning,  throwing  a  faint  light  over 
the  place  of  their  encampment,  but  the  maiden 
for  whom  the  shelter  had  been  made  was  no- 
where to  be  found. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


THE   RESCUE    OF    RUTH. 

|AUL  only  advanced  a  few  paces,  and 
then  fell  heavily  to  the  earth ;  his 
eager  feet  refused  their  office,  a 
dizziness  came  over  him,  and  he  felt  with 
inexpressible  pain  that  he  could  not  join 
in  the  efforts  made  for  Ruth's  recovery. 
The  others  pressed  on  and  left  him.  He 
saw  them  pause  by  the  burning  embers  at 
a  little  distance  from  him,  and  after  a  hurried 
consultation  commence  searching,  .in  a  large 
semicircle  behind  the  spot  where  the  lodge 
had  been,  for  traces  of  the  flight  of  the  miss- 
ing one  and  her  captors.  As  the  little  party 
of  three  held  this  hasty  conference  it  struck 
Paul  for  the  first  time  that  Solomon  was  no- 
where to  •  be  seen ;  the  dead  Indians  lay 

188 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.         189 

where  they  had  fallen,  the  savage  with 
whom  the  guide  had  been  engaged  lying 
farthest  from  Paul,  but  still  near  enough 
for  him  to  recognize  the  body;  the  guide 
had  not  been  killed,  then,  in  the  struggle, 
and  Paul  gathered  some  hope  from  his 
absence,  for  he  knew  that  it  could  not  be 
without  purpose. 

John  and  the  two  soldiers  were  not  long  in 
finding  the  traces  they  sought.  A  piece  of 
the  fringe  of  Ruth's  dress  was  found  clinging 
to  a  thorny  bush,  and  a  little  farther  into  the 
forest  the  light  of  the  flaming  pine  knots, 
which  they  used  as  torches,  revealed  a  light 
gray  glove,  dropped  upon  the  ground.  Now 
the  pursuers  would  find  but  little  difficulty  in 
tracking  the  Indians,  and  perhaps  overtaking 
them  before  they  had  borne  their  captive  far 
away.  They  returned  to  Paul,  to  leave  him 
as  comfortably  and  safely  situated  as  possible 
and  to  seek  for  the  guide.  But  as  Paul  assured 
them  that  Solomon  must  be  already  in  pursuit 
of  Ruth's  captors,  they  waited  only  to  place 
him  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  oak,  propped  up  by 
blankets  and  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  with  his 


190        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

loaded  weapons  within  reach  of  his  hand,  and 
then  left  him  to  follow  the  trail.  Paul  saw 
them  disappear  with  a  feeling  of  loneliness 
and  almost  vexation.  It  was  by  no  means 
pleasant  to  be  the  only  one  left  upon  a  desert- 
ed battle-field,  with  the  consciousness  that  the 
enemy  might  return  to  carry  away  their  dead 
comrades,  while  his  wounded  shoulder  very 
sensibly  reminded  him  that  his  right  arm 
would  be  of  little  use,  should  he  have  to 
contend  again  for  his  life.  But  it  was  not 
on  this  account  that  he  was  most  troubled ; 
it  was  with  bitter  vexation  that  he  saw  the 
others  depart  on  an  errand  in  which  he  would 
gladly  have  taken  part,  in  which  he  felt  he 
ought  to  have,  if  not  by  right  at  least  b}: 
inclination,  the  first  place.  In  the  few  hours 
during  which  he  was  left  alone  with  his  own 
misgivings,  he  came  to  a  more  thorough 
knowledge  of  himself  and  his  feelings.  It 
was  vain  for  him  to  try  to  convince  himself 
that  Ruth  was  not  in  any  danger  in  the  hands 
of  the  savages ;  that  all  that  was  to  be  feared 
would  be  the  effects  of  her  own  terror ;  that 
the  Indians  only  wished  to  obtain  a  large 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        191 

ransom  for  her.  His  heart  was  not  so  easily 
to  be  quieted.  Paul  loved  Ruth ;  he  loved 
her  as  he  had  never  known  until  this  night ; 
but  now  the  whole  force  of  his  passion  became 
manifest  to  him  as  he  sat  in  the  darkness, 
trying  to  calm  his  mind  enough  to  implore 
the  divine  Power  to  save  her  from  her 
danger. 

But  we  must  follow  Ruth  and  her  captors. 

Awakened  in  excessive  terror,  she  could  do 
but  little  besides  watch  with  all  anxiety  the 
defence  her  friends  were  making  after  they 
had  rushed  to  the  encounter.  She  stood  be- 
neath the  low  roof,  intent  only  on  the  danger 
threatened  from  before,  from  the  band  of 
savages  which  had  made  the  open  attack.  It 
was  without  any  suspicion  on  her  part,  there- 
fore, that  the  two  traitors  approached  their 
victim  from  the  shades  in  the  rear  of  the 
lodge.  She  saw  not  the  flickering  light  of 
the  fire-brands  with  which  they  ignited  the 
dry  twigs  and  boughs  of  which  the  little 
shelter  was  made,  and  before  she  could  cry 
out  or  flee  from  so  unexpected  a  danger  she 
was  standing  in  the  midst  of  crackling  flames. 


192         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Immediately  one  of  the  Indians  called  her  to 
rush  from  the  danger  and  he  would  place  her 
in  safety ;  but  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  obey 
this  warning.  Her  terror  made  her  power- 
less, and  her  strength  failed  her,  as  she 
started  to  leap  forward  through  the  flames ; 
at  the  instant  the  two  savages  sprang  in  and 
drawing  her  hands  behind  her  with  a  grip  of 
steel,  dragged  her  hastily  and  rudely  forth 
into  the  forest.  She  could  not  call  or  cry  out ; 
ler  mouth  was  parched  ;  she  understood  now 
the  whole  position  of  affairs,  and  saw  herself 
in  the  hands  of  savages,  doomed  perhaps  to  a 
long  captivity.  She  was  hurried  away  be- 
tween her  captors,  their  sinewy  arms  almost 
lifting  her  from  the  ground.  Her  thoughts 
did  not  desert  her,  however ;  and  bravely  she 
resorted  to  the  only  means  that  occurred  to 
her  ready  wit  by  which  she  could  help  herself. 
They  had  gone  but  a  few  steps  when  she 
managed  to  drop  one  of  her  riding  gloves 
without  attracting  the  notice  of  her  captors, 
and  a  little  farther  on  the  veil,  that  she  had 
tucked  into  her  belt  upon  the  close  of  the 
day's  journey,  floated  away  behind  her  as 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        193 

she  was  hurried  onward  through  the  dark- 
ness. It  was  with  little  hope  that  she  took 
these  precautions,  and  she  little  knew  that  her 
deliverance  would  depend  entirely  upon  these 
careful  acts  of  presence  of  mind. 

With  the  greatest  possible  speed  the  In- 
dians pursued  their  way  toward  the  spot 
where  the  band  had  been  encamped  before 
the  attack.  After  proceeding  nearly  a  mile, 
they  ventured  to  light  a  pine  torch,  which  one 
of  them  carried  in  advance,  while  the  other 
followed  with  Ruth.  Their  course  was  now 
more  rapid,  and  they  soon  emerged  into  the 
little  open  space  where  the  savages  had  been 
encamped  during  the  early  part  of  the  night. 
Stopping  only  for  a  few  minutes  to  give  Ruth 
a  little  rest  and  recruit  her  strength  for  the  re- 
mainder of  their  flight,  they  pressed  on  again 
into  the  forest;  but  they  had  delayed  long 
enough  to  leave  a  trace  of  their  presence. 
Ruth  had  crouched  by  the  few  embers  of  the 
dying  fire,  half  reclining  on  the  ground  to  re- 
gain the  strength  she  so  much  needed,  and 
one  of  her  captors,  thinking  her  cold  in  the 
chilly  dampness  of  the  night,  raked  the 
U  N 


194         MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

smouldering  fire  together  and  roused  the  dor- 
mant flame.  Had  he  known  that  the  pursuer 
was  already  near,  he  would  not  have  been 
guilty  of  such  an  indiscretion. 

Away  through  the  forest  solitudes,  over 
stones  and  through  briers,  they  dragged  the 
almost  fainting  maiden.  She  could  not  speak 
and  implore  the  mercy  of  the  savages,  for  a 
leathern  band  had  been  placed  over  her  mouth 
when  they  had  stopped  early  in  the  march  to 
light  the  torch. 

Suddenly  the  light  of  the  torch  was  thrown 
back  from  a  bare  wall  of  rock,  rising  almost 
perpendicularly  for  twenty  or  .thirty  feet,  and 
crowned  upon  the  summit  with  a  dark  mass 
of  shrubbery,  embracing  the  rising  trunks  of 
hemlock  trees.  Beneath  this  cliff  they  held 
their  way,  and  turning  suddenly  around  its 
curving  base,  came  upon  a  little  pathway  lead- 
ing up  the  steep.  Ruth  felt  that  this  was  the 
end  of  their  journey,  that  this  forest  fastness 
was  to  be  her  prison,  and  overcome  by  weari- 
ness and  her  utter  hopelessness,  she  sank 
heavily  to  the  earth.  Her  captors  bent  over 
her  to  raise  her  in  their  arms  and  bear  her  up 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.        195 

the  pathway,  but  a  quick,  low  sound  made 
them  pause  for  an  instant.  Again  it  came, 
nearer  than  before ;  and  they  knew  the  pur- 
suer was  close  upon  them.  More  than  this, 
they  knew  with  what  a  foe  they  would  have 
to  deal,  for  the  noise  was  not  loud  enough  to 
be  made  by  a  white  man's  foot ;  it  could  only 
be  by  the  moccasined  foot  of  a  native  of  the 
woods.  Rudely  and  hastily  they  seized  their 
burden  and  sprang  up  the  steep  pathway,  but 
they  were  too  late. 

Solomon  had  no  sooner  rid  himself  of  his 
antagonist  than  his  quick  eye  had  taken  in 
all  the  situation.  Instantly  he  flew  to  the 
rescue  of  John,  who  was  bravely  contending 
with  two  powerful  red-skins,  and  who  must 
soon  have  fallen  beneath  their  united  efforts. 
Then  the  blaze  of  the  burning  lodge  forced 
itself  upon  his  notice,  occupied  as  he  already 
was  with  his  active  foe,  and  he  redoubled  his 
exertion,  fighting  with  despairing  energy.  It 
would  have  been  death  for  him  had  he  turned 
to  the  defence  of  Ruth,  but  as  he  fought  he 
marked  the  spot  where  her  captors  entered 
the  forest,  and  when  his  foe  had  watched  his 


*96       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

opportunity  and  turned  to  fly,  he  no  longer 
sought  his  life,  but  leaped  forward  to  the  pur- 
suit as  eagerly  as  the  hound  set  free  from  the 
leash  springs  onward  to  the  chase.  He  found 
the  traces  of  their  flight — the  fringe,  the  glove, 
the  veil — and  seeing  instantly  the  direction  of 
their  path,  he  pressed  on  at  all  his  speed  to  the 
camp  he  had  visited  once  before  that  night. 
Here  the  flames  were  still  burning  feebly,  and 
one  glance  at  the  embers  was  enough  to  con- 
vince him  that  they  had  been  recently  disturb- 
ed. But  he  was  now  at  fault,  though  certain 
that  those  whom  he  was  seeking  had  been 
there  but  a  little  while  before.  He  searched 
the  vicinity  of  the  point  directly  opposite  that 
at  which  he  had  entered  the  little  open  space, 
but  he  found  no  trace  of  the  fugitives,  and  he 
was  loth  to  keep  on  with  no  sign  to  guide 
him.  He  knew  of  the  cliff  to  which  they 
had  really  gone,  but  it  was  in  a  direction 
nearly  at  right  angles  to  their  former  course, 
and  he  thought  they  would  hardly  lose  time 
by  not  proceeding  directly  thither.  But  in 
searching  a  little  in  that  direction  he  found  at 
last  what  he  sought,  for  the  briers  had  not 


Master  Hathorne's  Family 


197. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FA  MILT.        197 

only  been  an  injury  to  the  poor  girl,  but  now 
held  up  to  her  deliverer  the  tokens  they  had 
so  rudely  wrested  from  her.  The  impatient 
guide  needed  nothing  more,  but  sped  away  to 
the  rescue. 

He  reached  the  cliff  just  as  the  savages 
bore  their  helpless  burden  up  the  steep.  His 
foot  no  longer  trampled  in  its  haste  the  crack- 
ling twigs ;  silently,  like  a  very  ghost  of 
vengeance,  nay  1  of  recurring  retribution,  he 
sprang  up  the  pathway  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
victims.  The  glittering  knife  flashed  for  an 
instant  in  the  air  and  then  was  buried  in  the 
heart  of  one  of  the  savages ;  the  other  turned 
upon  him  for  a  minute  and  then  glided  swiftly 
away  into  the  forest. 

Solomon  raised  the  slight  form  from  the 
ground  and  bore  it  away  in  his  arms.  He 
dared  not  delay  for  rest,  nor  could  he  follow 
the  same  path  in  returning  which  he  had  kept 
in  the  pursuit.  Striking  boldly  into  the  woods 
in  a  straight  line  for  the  place  of  encampment, 
he  hurried  away  into  the  darkn  :ss. 

It  was  some  time  before  Ruth  regained 
her  consciousness,  and  not  until  she  was  far 

17* 


198       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

away  from  the  haunt  that  would  have  been 
her  prison  did  she  open  her  eyes  and  rec- 
ognize her  deliverer.  The  first  gray  light  of 
morning  was  peeping  through  the  leafy  arches 
as  the  Indian  halted  for  rest  and  placed  his 
burden  upon  a  soft  bed  of  moss  beside  a 
spring  of  water.  He  smiled  as  she  asked 
him  how  he  had  found  her  and  overcome  her 
captors,  and  in  his  brief,  abrupt  way  he  told 
her  of  the  rescue.  And  when  the  tears  of 
gratitude  rilled  her  eyes  as  she  called  him  her 
dear,  dear  friend,  the  stalwart  Indian  became 
uneasy,  anxious  to  be  upon  the  road  again, 
and  Ruth  laughingly  arose  to  spare  him  his 
honest  confusion.  Taking  her  again  in  his 
strong  arms,  for  she  was  still  as  weak  as  a 
child,  the  guide  hastened  onward,  and  reached 
the  camp  as  the  sun  rose  up  from  the  horizon 
and  gilded  the  tree-tops  with  his  golden-red 
rays.  A  cry  of  welcome  greeted  them  as 
they  entered  the  camp.  John  and  his  com- 
panions had  returned  before  dawn,  discour- 
aged and  almost  hopeless,  and  they  had  been 
but  little  cheered  by  the  intense  anxiety  that 
was  manifest  in  every  act  and  word  of  Paul. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        199 

They  had  all  agreed  that  their  only  hope  lay 
in  the  absent  guide.  Whether  he  was  at  work 
for  the  rescue  of  Ruth,  or  whether  he  was  only 
engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  the  savages,  that 
they  might  not  escape  without  severe  punish- 
ment, they  could  not  tell.  One  of  the  soldiers 
suggested  that  the  guide  too  had  played  them 
false,  but  neither  John  nor  Paul  would  for  a 
moment  entertain  the  thought ;  they  knew  the 
man  too  well. 

But  when  Solomon  strode  into  the  camp 
bearing  the  rescued  maiden  in  his  arms  as  he 
would  have  carried  a  little  child,  they  were 
not  prepared  for  so  speedy  a  return,  and  the 
Indian  was  fain  to  escape  the  united  expres- 
sions of  gratitude  that  were  heaped  upon  him, 
pleading  his  need  of  rest  and  stretching  him- 
self out  for  a  short  sleep  beneath  a  close  cluster 
of  tall  bushes. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

ARRIVAL   AT    ROGER    WILLIAMS'. 

|T  was  past  noon  when  the  little  com- 
pany entered  the  town  in  which  their 
journey  was  to  end,  and  passed 
through  its  quiet  streets  to  the  bank  of  the 
beautiful  river  where  stood  the  dwelling  of 
Master  Jacob  Wallingford.  Paul  would  hear 
of  no  other  plan  than  that  all  should  proceed 
at  once  to  his  home,  to  gain  rest  and  refresh- 
ment before  Ruth  and  John  should  present 
themselves  before  their  friends.  The  master 
of  the  house  received  them  joyfully,  greeting 
them  as  his  son's  friends  and  expressing 
without  disguise  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at 
having  them  beneath  his  roof.  As  for  John 
and  Ruth,  they  were  much  gratified  at  re- 
ceiving so  warm  a  welcome — the  more  so 

200 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILT.       2OJ 

because  Master  Wallingford's  manner  was 
so  much  more  unreserved  than  that  to  which 
they  had  always  been  accustomed.  His 
welcome  was  free  from  that  constrained,  that 
Puritan  manner,  which  said  so  plainly  that 
not  even  reasonable  joys — the  pleasure  of 
hospitality,  of  friendship,  of  brotherly  love — 
were  to  be  allowed  the  control  of  the  mind 
for  an  instant. 

Mr.  Wallingford,  probably  from  his  want 
of  sympathy  with  the  strict  Puritans  in  their 
religious  views,  had  gone  even  to  the  other 
extreme,  if  the  word  may  be  used  in  speak- 
ing of  the  easy  manners  of  any  one  of  that 
day. 

With  the  easy  air  of  one  in  possession  of 
abundant  wealth,  half  inviting,  half  expect- 
ing his  request  to  be  regarded  as  a  command, 
he  received  his  guests  and  conducted  them 
into  his  spacious  dwelling.  His  son  he 
greeted  with  marked  affection,  devoting  as 
much  attention  to  him  as  his  courtesy  to  his 
guests  would  admit,  asking  particularly  of 
all  that  had  occurred  since  the  time  of  the 
last  letter  Paul  had  sent  home.  He  did  not 


202        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

notice  for  a  little  time  that  the  young  mnn 
appeared  weak  and  ill,  but  finally,  when  a 
chance  word  dropped  by  John  brought  it  to 
his  attention,  he  became  deeply  anxious,  and 
as  soon  as  his  fears  were  sufficiently  allayed 
by  the  light  way  in  which  Paul  spoke  of  his 
injury,  he  flew  off  in  a  fierce  denunciation  of 
the  whole  Indian  race,  expressing  his  utter 
hatred  of  the  whole  family  and  wishing  that 
he  might  never  see  one  of  the  red-skins  again. 
His  indignation  was  not  modified  when  he 
learned  that  Ruth  too  had  suffered  at  their 
hands,  and  his  anger  was  really  getting  the 
better  of  his  reason  and  surpassing  the  bounds 
of  common  politeness  to  his  guests,  when  a 
ridiculous  light  was  cast  upon  the  whole 
matter  by  Paul,  who  suggested  to  his  father 
that  his  trading  operations  depended  some- 
what upon  the  Indians,  and  it  would  be  in- 
convenient to  have  them  annihilated  at  once. 
Mr.  Wallingford  laughed  good  humoredly, 
and  devoted  his  attentions  to  the  refreshment 
of  the  wearied  travelers. 

It  was  not  till  late  in  the  day  that  John  and 
Ruth  departed  for  the  house  of  their  friend, 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         203 

Master  Roger  Williams.  Paul  promised  to 
see  them  on  the  following  day,  and  they  left 
him  to  reveal  to  his  father  the  change  that 
had  come  upon  his  prospects,  and  a  feeling 
of  sadness  occupied  their  hearts  as  they  saw 
the  first  great  storm-cloud  of  their  friend's 
life  rising  into  view  and  already  casting  its 
sombre  shadow  upon  him.  Paul  knew  their 
thoughts  and  was  glad  of  their  heartfelt 
sympathy ;  and  though  he  felt  that  he  should 
not  see  them  again  till  his  parent's  frown  had 
fallen  upon  him,  a  smile  rested  upon  his  face 
as  he  bade  them  farewell  and  turned  back 
into  the  house.  So  may  the  radiance  of  the 
upright  soul  expel  from  the  Christian's  face 
all  trace  of  doubt  or  gloom  in  the  hour  of 
deepest  trial ! 

The  clattering  of  the  horses'  hoofs  brought 
to  the  window  of  the  pleasant  family-room  of 
Mr.  Williams'  dwelling  the  eager  faces  of 
three  children,  who  returned  to  their  mother's 
inquiry  the  answer  that  two  strangers  were 
alighting  at  the  door. 

' '  It  must  be  our  friends  !  It  is  John  and 
Ruth  I"  exclaimed  the  good  woman,  and  the 


204        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

next  moment  her  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall 
giving  a  warm  welcome  to  the  young  people 
as  they  entered. 

•*  Praise  the  Lord  our  fears  were  vain  1" 
she  said,  devoutly.  "  A  rumor  reached  us  at 
noon  that  a  party  had  been  attacked  by  the 
Indians,  and  that  many  had  been  killed. 
Father  said  that  God  would  have  you  in 
his  hand,  and  that  our  hearts  must  not  be 
troubled.  But  it  is  sometimes  hard,  dear 
children,  to  do  just  as  we  ought,  and  even 
father  himself  was  at  last  so  anxious  that  he 
went  out  to  make  inquiries  of  some  of  the 
people.  We  were  not  sure  of  your  coming, 
but  we  feared  you  were  of  the  party.  But 
God  hath  brought  you  to  us  in  safety.  My 
children,  may  his  blessing  be  with  you  I" 

She  began  helping  Ruth  to  lay  aside  her 
outer  garments,  after  leading  the  way  to  the 
room  where  she  had  been  sitting.  John  went 
with  one  of  the  children  to  see  that  the  horses 
were  properly  cared  for,  and  to  give  some 
directions  to  the  two  soldiers  who  had  ac- 
companied them  on  the  journey.  The  two 
guests  felt  perfectly  at  home,  though  they 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        205 

had  not  seen  their  hosts  for  some  years,  for 
the  smile  of  welcome  that  had  rested  on  the 
face  of  Mrs.  Williams  when  she  had  first 
greeted  them  was  so  kind  and  loving  and 
motherly  that  they  almost  felt  they  had  only 
returned  to  another  parent,  whose  warm  heart 
would  cherish  them  as  her  own. 

John  had  returned,  and  they  had  been  sit- 
ting for  nearly  an  hour  talking  together  of 
all  that  had  occurred  since  their  visit  long 
ago,  while  Ruth  was  a  child,  when  footsteps 
were  heard  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Williams 
announced  the  return  of  her  husband.  Ruth 
started  quickly  from  her  chair  as  she  heard  a 
well-remembered  voice  in  conversation  with 
Mr.  Williams  in  the  hall,  but  she  as  quickly 
drew  back  and  restrained  her  desire  to  run 
and  throw  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  her 
friend  Mary,  for  Mr.  Williams,  the  great  Mr. 
Williams — he  for  whom  she  had  conceived  a 
reverence  amounting  almost  to  awe — would  be 
the  witness  of  their  meeting.  She  sank  abash- 
ed into  her  chair,  and  in  another  moment  the 
great  man  was  before  her. 

He  had  greatly  changed  since  she  had  last 

18 


206       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAM1LT. 

seen  him.  As  she  remembered  him  he  had 
a  full,  genial  face,  his  hair  and  beard  just 
streaked  with  gray,  his  eyes  bright  and 
piercing,  and  his  lips  firm,  and  hardly  ever 
relaxing  into  the  benevolent  smile  that  so 
well  became  them.  But  now  the  glory  of 
years  had  been  added  to  him.  His  step 
had  lost  somewhat  of  its  lightness ;  his  form 
was  a  trifle  bent;  his  long  hair  was  of  a 
snowy  whiteness,  and  he  had  now  no  beard 
to  hide  his  finely-turned  chin  or  obscure  the 
bright  smile  that  sat  so  often  on  his  lips.  It 
was  evident  that  his  great  labors,  involving 
often  the  necessity  of  exposure  and  want,  had 
performed  their  work  in  weakening  his  phys- 
ical powers  and  undermining  his  strong  con- 
stitution, but  at  the  same  time  each  year  had 
given  additional  sweetness  to  a  character  al- 
ways lovely  ;  and  as  the  soul  had  grown  more 
beautiful,  putting  on  a  nobler  form  with  the 
passing  time,  so  the  outward  man  had  gained 
that  serenity  of  aspect  which  is  the  glory  of  a 
life  advanced  in  years. 

Ruth   almost  trembled   as   the  good   man 
greeted  her  brother,    cordially  offering  him 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILT.        207 

all  the  great  hospitality  of  his  home  and  in- 
quiring affectionately  after  all  those  who  had 
been  left  in  Boston ;  but  when  he  turned  to 
her  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  and,  with  his 
other  hand  resting  upon  her  head  as  he  look- 
ed down  into  her  upturned  face,  asked  if  that 
was  the  Ruth,  the  little  Ruth  Hathorne  who 
had  crept  into  his  heart  so  long  before,  she 
found  that  the  great  Mr.  Williams,  of  whom 
she  had  heard  so  much  that  she  had  come  to 
fear  her  meeting  with  him,  had,  after  all,  as 
tender  a  heart  as  his  gentle  daughter  Mary, 
and  one  in  which  she  would  find  almost  as 
much  love  for  herself.  The  warm  tears  of 
gratitude  filled  her  dark  eyes  as  he  spoke, 
and  when  he  released  her  hand  she  was 
very  glad  to  turn  away  to  Mary's  embrace 
and  hide  them  in  the  bosom  of  her  friend. 

There  were  so  many  things  to  be  said,  so 
many  messages  from  the  loved  ones  at  home 
to  be  given,  that  it  was  somewhat  later  than 
usual  when  the  Bible  was  brought  from  its 
shelf  and  placed  at  the  good  man's  side. 
Ruth  found  herself  wondering,  at  the  close  of 
the  simple  service,  what  could  be  the  charm 


2oS       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

in  the  voice  and  manner  of  him  who  had  con- 
ducted it,  to  make  the  familiar  words  so  far 
more  beautiful  than  they  had  ever  seemed  be- 
fore, and  to  inspire  within  her  soul  a  deeper 
feeling  of  love  for  the  great  Master ;  and  she 
often  thought  afterward  of  the  effect  produced 
upon  her  on  this  first  evening,  knowing  then 
that  it  was  not  the  influence  of  voice  or  man- 
ner, but  the  purity  of  the  reader's  soul  shining 
beyond  his  outward  form,  as  he  pondered  the 
divine  words,  and  exerting  its  calm  power 
upon  all  who  heard. 

It  was  a  joy  merely  to  look  on  the  good 
man's  face,  its  expression  was  so  benign,  it 
was  so  lighted  up  by  the  love  of  his  heart  for 
God  and  all  of  his  creatures.  Ruth  could  not 
have  entertained  any  feeling  of  fear,  of  un- 
pleasant restraint,  in  his  presence,  however 
much  she  might  have  reverenced  him.  To 
see  him  was  to  love  him,  and  it  made  little 
difference  whether  the  honored  of  the  land 
or  the  poor,  simple,  half-naked  savage  came 
to  him  for  friendship  or  service  ;  every  one 
found  a  warm  place  in  his  heart.  It  may 
well  be  imagined,  then,  how  easily  a  tempera 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       209 

ment  like  Ruth's  would  yield  to  such  a  power, 
and  we  can  almost  see  the  bright  smiles  of 
love  and  joy  that  lighted  up  her  beautiful  face 
whenever  the  good  man  laid  his  hand  on  her 
head,  as  he  would  often  do,  and  say  some 
happy  word  to  her. 

Ruth  found  her  waist  encircled  by  the  arm 
of  her  friend  Mary  when  the  little  band  be- 
gan to  separate  for  their  rest,  and  she  was 
glad  to  be  led  away  to  share  her  companion's 
bed.  Though  two  hundred  years  have 
passed  away  since  the  date  of  our  story,  the 
nature  of  young  girls  has  not  changed ;  so, 
of  course,  Ruth  and  Mary  lay  awake  more 
than  half  the  night  talking  of  that  numberless 
multitude  of  subjects  which  the  feminine  mind 
alone  can  conjure  up.  Perhaps  their  talk 
was  on  topics  a  little  different  from  those 
that  would  now  be  chosen  by  equals  in  age, 
for  those  were  not  the  days  so  much  of  dress 
and  fashion  as  of  sterner  customs ;  and  it 
should  be  remembered  also  that  Mary  was 
the  elder  of  the  two  by  a  dozen  years ,  yet 
they  had  enough  sympathies  in  common  to 
keep  them  busily  employed  for  many  hours 


-JIO        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

after  the  eyes  of  the  wearied  traveler  should 
have  been  closed  in  sleep,  and  as  a  natural 
consequence  it  was  but  little  refreshed  they 
were  when  the  morning  dawned  and  the 
early  day  of  the  New  England  household 
was  begun. 

It  was  nearly  noon,  and  Ruth  had  stolen 
away  to  her  room  for  a  little  while  that  she 
might  lie  down  and  rest,  when  she  heard 
Paul  Wallingford's  voice  in  the  hall  inquir- 
ing for  her.  She  hastened  immediately  to 
see  him,  for  John  was  away,  and  she  too 
well  divined  the  object  of  Paul's  visit  to 
allow  him  to  depart  without  its  accomplish- 
ment. 

The  young  man  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  and  Ruth  read  in  his  saddened  brow 
and  sorrowful  eye  the  confirmation  of  her 
fears.  Paul  held  her  hand  for  a  moment 
without  speaking,  and  in  silence  they  passed 
into  the  room  and  sat  down. 

"  It  is  as  we  feared,  Ruth,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  As  I  told  you,  I  knew  my  father  too  well  to 
be  mistaken.  The  blow  was  too  great,  too  sud- 
den, the  destruction  of  his  life-long  hopes  too 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        211 

complete,  for  any  way  of  reconciliation  to  be 
left." 

"Is  there  none?  Can  a  father  become  so 
estranged  from  his  son  in  a  moment  that 
there  can  be  no  hope  of  change?" 

"Ah,  Ruth,  I  would  not  have  believed  it 
myself,  and  even  when  I  told  you  my  fears 
there  was  still  a  little  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
he  would  go  so  far.  But  it  is  worse  even  than 
I  had  expected  at  the  uttermost.  I  have  seen 
his  hasty  temper  excited  before,  but  never 
till  now  have  I  seen  him  so  determined.  Had 
he  given  way  to  an  outburst  of  passion  1 
should  augur  better  for  the  future,  but  he 
was  even  calm,  his  voice  only  betraying 
the  depth  of  his  feeling.  His  words  were 
measured  and  slow,  too  carefully  weighed 
to  be  lightly  retracted  ;  and  though  they  were 
not  those  that  I  expected  to  hear  from  his 
lips,  their  burning  significance  will  ever  be 
the  more  painful  in  my  remembrance.  It 
was  with  scorn  that  he  spoke  of  his  son, 
the  heir  to  his  wealth,  who  had  only  return- 
ed to  blast  his  hopes  and  to  leave  him  for 
his  enemies,  or  perhaps  to  remain  an  inmate 


<5I2       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

jf  his  house  while  in  reality  an  outcast  from 
his  heart.  It  was  hard  to  hear  him  speak 
thus,  and  harder  still  to  listen  to  his  cruel 
taunts,  that  I  had  come  back  to  seek  my 
inheritance,  that  it  was  not  his  love  I  prized, 
but  only  the  results  of  his  labors,  and  that 
of  course  the  sooner  my  ingratitude  com- 
pleted its  work  upon  him,  the  better  it  would 
be  for  me  ;  but  it  was  hardest  of  all  when  he 
turned  from  me  to  my  Master,  and  calmly, 
with  deliberate  forethought,  gave  utterance  to 
words  that  I  cannot,  I  must  not,  recall.  That 
was  too  hard  to  bear,  and  I  turned  from  him 
and  left  him  alone.  I  saw  him  this  morning. 
The  cold  sneer  rested  still  on  his  face  when 
he  saw  that  I  was  still  beneath  his  roof,  but 
without  any  farther  word  he  went  away.  Of 
course  I  am  decided  what  to  do.  Though  he 
has  not  banished  me  his  presence  in  so  many 
words,  I  am  still,  as  he  said,  an  outcast  from 
his  heart;  and  if  I  can  have  no  home  there, 
his  dwelling  cannot  be  mine.  It  has  come 
to  pass  as  we  feared,  Ruth,  but  with  the  ac- 
companiment of  more  terrible  memories  for 
the  future  than  I  had  thought.** 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        213 

He  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and 
after  a  little  silence  said  slowly : 

"No  mother  and  no  father,  brotherless  and 
sisterless,  my  friends  every  day  dropping  away 
from  me,  I  go  out  into  the  world.  If  I  live, 
there  will  be  few  to  care  for  me ;  if  I  die, 
there  will  be  few  to  mourn  my  loss.  It  is 
harder  to  be  friendless,  Ruth,  than  I  thought 
it  would  be." 

"Not  wholly  friendless,  Paul,"  Ruth  an- 
swered, laying  her  hand  on  his  appealingly. 
"Remember,  the  few  that  are  left  are  firm 
and  true,  and  you  have  yet  life  before  you  in 
which  to  win  others." 

"  A  life  that  persecution  may  cut  short,  or  so 
embitter  that  it  can  hardly  be  called  life." 

"If  it  should  be  your  lot  to  suffer  as  others 
have  suffered,  remember  what  the  eternal 
Friend,  the  Elder  Brother,  has  said  :  '  He  that 
findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it ;  and  he  that  loseth 
his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it.'  And  his 
blessed  lips  also  uttered  the  words :  '  Ye  are 
my  friends,  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I  command 
you.  " 

So  she  comforted  him. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

PAUL   EXPLAINS    HIS   PLANS. 

|OME  days  passed  away  before  Ruth 
again  saw  Paul,  but  then  he  came  to 
her  with  a  face  no  longer  cloud- 
ed over  by  the  shadow  of  sorrow  and  re- 
gret, but  radiant  with  happiness,  and  telling 
plainly  to  the  beholder  that  every  hesitation, 
every  longing,  backward  look  was  passed 
away  for  ever,  and  that  the  joyous  soul  was 
ready  for  the  contest  that  might  be  before  it. 
He  came  to  her  with  a  light  step  as  she  sat 
upon  her  horse  in  front  of  the  house  waiting 
for  John  to  mount ;  and  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  gathered  reins,  as  if  desiring  to  retain  her 
while  he  talked.  He  had  been  staying  at  the 
house  of  a  friend  since  he  last  saw  her,  and 
in  the  interval  had  made  arrangements  with 
which  he  desired  Ruth  and  her  brother  to  be 

214 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILT.       215 

acquainted.  It  was  now  Tuesday,  and  on  the 
following  Sunday  he  was  to  be  baptized  by 
the  pastor  of  the  Baptist  church,  and  was 
to  unite  with  that  body.  He  had  also  con- 
cluded arrangements  to  study  a  few  months 
with  Mr.  Williams,  that  he  might  be  ben- 
efited by  his  great  experience  with  the 
Indians,  and  get  enough  knowledge  of  their 
language  to  be  able  to  act  in  the  capacity  of 
a  missionary.  He  was  full  of  hopes  for  the 
future,  full  of  his  burning  desire  to  be  at  work 
in  his  chosen  calling.  There  was  now  no 
mention  made  of  the  father  who  had  rejected 
him  or  of  the  friends  who  had  cast  him  off. 
All  of  the  future  that  was  not  bright  with  sun- 
shine he  was  determined  to  shut  out  from  his 
present  sight ;  all  the  darkness  of  the  past  he 
was  resolved  to  forget,  save  as  it  should  serve 
to  make  his  work  still  more  glorious  in  his 
eyes  and  nerve  him  to  its  better  fulfillment. 

It  was  only  for  a  few  minutes  they  could 
talk  together,  and  Paul  was  obliged  to  say 
good-bye  when  John  came  from  the  house 
and  mounted  his  horse.  A  little  feeling  of 
sadness  crept  into  his  heart  as  he  stood  alone 


2l6        MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

and  saw  the  brother  and  sister  ride  away 
together — a  feeling  not  of  envy  at  their 
mutual  love  and  happiness,  for  he  would 
not  have  deprived  them  of  it  for  the  world, 
but  of  loneliness,  of  inexpressible  regret  that 
his  lot  was  so  very  different  from  that  of  his 
friends ;  but  he  turned  away  with  a  resolute 
step  and  steeled  his  mind  to  think  of  other 
things. 

As  he  passed  out  into  the  street  and  turned 
away  to  go  to  his  home,  he  met  the  Indian 
guide.  Solomon  was  on  his  way  to  the  house 
of  Mr.  Williams,  where  he  expected  to  see  the 
good  man,  but  as  Paul  told  him  that  he  was 
away  from  home,  he  turned  and  accompanied 
him  for  some  distance,  as  the  way  of  both  led 
them  toward  the  river.  Paul  was  glad  to 
meet  him,  for  he  had  already  formed  a  plan 
in  which  Solomon  was  to  bear  a  part,  if  he 
could  be  persuaded  to  help  him.  Solomon 
listened  attentively  as  Paul  laid  before  him 
the  work  that  was  to  occupy  his  own  atten- 
tion in  the  future,  and  he  expressed  his  joy 
that  his  fellows  were  to  be  taught  the  blessed 
truths  which  he  had  learned  to  love  and  to 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.       217 

trust  so  implicitly.  But  when  Paul  began  to 
speak  of  help,  and  of  help  that  an  Indian 
alone  could  give,  Solomon  began  to  grow 
a  little  disturbed.  It  was  not  that  he  was  un- 
willing to  work,  and  to  work  in  this  way, 
but  Paul  proposed  to  begin  with  his  own 
tribe,  and  he  distrusted  his  own  ability  to 
gain  the  respect  and  attention  of  those  who 
had  been  so  long  estranged  from  him. 

Paul  did  not  succeed  in  convincing  him  be- 
fore they  reached  the  water's  edge.  Then  at 
the  Indian's  solicitation  he  embarked  with  him 
in  his  canoe,  and  they  shot  out  upon  the  clear 
surface  of  the  stream.  After  they  reached 
the  open  river  and  felt  the  force  of  the  current, 
Solomon  allowed  the  little  craft  to  float  pretty 
much  at  its  own  will,  and  they  continued  their 
conversation. 

The  idea  was  so  wholly  new  to  the  Indian 
that  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he 
could  be  made  to  believe  that  he  could  be  of 
assistance  to  Paul  in  his  great  work.  The 
late  afternoon  gave  place  to  early  evening  be- 
fore they  turned  their  course  again  up  stream, 
but  ere  they  reached  the  shore  and  Paul  step- 

19 


21 8         MASTER   HATHOKNE'S   FAMILT. 

ped  from  the  canoe  upon  the  beach,  he  had 
prevailed  on  his  companion  to  act  as  his  col- 
league in  his  mission,  though  the  Indian  was 
still  distrustful  of  any  success  in  his  efforts. 

Paul  walked  away  thoughtfully  to  the  house 
of  the  friend  who  had  offered  him  a  home, 
and  in  his  little  room  gave  himself  up  to  the 
crowding  thoughts  of  the  hour.  He  was 
troubled  no  longer  about  questions  relating  to 
his  future  work ;  they  were  all  settled  now, 
and  he  was  all  ready  for  active  labor.  He 
had  long  been  decided  too  on  the  subject  of 
his  approaching  baptism.  The  hour  was 
now  near,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with  joy 
at  the  hope  of  following  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
Master,  yet  he  had  so  long  looked  forward 
to  the  event  that  it  did  not  occupy  all  of  his 
thoughts.  There  were  other  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings now  craving  his  attention.  Since  those 
terrible  hours  of  suspense  in  the  solitude  of 
the  forest,  when  he  had  first  realized  how  the 
happiness  of  his  life  was  centred  in  another 
being,  he  had  not  ceased  to  ponder  the  ques- 
tion whether  he  should  frankly  tell  Ruth 
Hathorne  of  his  love.  He  felt  that  now  this 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         219 

question  must  be  definitely  settled.  But  there 
came  to  his  mind  the  recollection  of  Mr.  Ha- 
thorne's  reluctant  consent  to  Ruth's  visit ;  how 
he  had  at  first  forbidden  it,  when  he  had  learn- 
ed of  the  heretical  influences  to  which  she- 
might  be  subjected  upon  the  journey  ;  how  he 
had  finally  consented  trusting  to  his  daugh- 
ter's firmness  of  principle  and  faith  and  con- 
fiding in  his  own  sense  of  honor.  Could  he, 
then,  in  honor  make  known  to  Ruth  the  wishes 
and  the  hopes  of  his  heart?  At  once  came  the 
firm,  decisive  answer  to  his  lips,  and  as  he 
started  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  room  he  re- 
peated it  to  himself,  as  if  beating  it  in  upon  his 
brain,  that  he  might  not  be  betrayed  into  any 
hasty  action.  It  was  with  a  redoubled  sense 
of  loneliness  that  he  sank  again  into  his  seat, 
and  gazed  from  the  window  across  the  dark- 
ened waters  of  the  river,  but  he  quickly  chided 
himself  for  doubting  for  an  instant  that  the 
divine  order  was  the  best,  and  he  thanked 
God  that  he  could  trust  his  heavenly  Father 
in  every  event  of  life. 

He  found  it  a  little  difficult  to  dismiss  the 
whole  subject  from  his  thoughts  at  once,  and 


220       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

almost  wished  that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to 
see  Ruth  so  often  during  the  next  few  months. 
He  felt  that  it  would  be  a  hard  task  to  subdue 
his  strong  desire  for  the  sympathy  she  alone 
could  give  him,  as  he  should  see  her  from 
day  to  day  during  her  stay  in  Providence, 
and  should  learn  to  love  her  better,  no 
matter  how  much  he  might  strive  against  it ; 
but  he  clearly  saw  the  task  before  him,  and 
from  that  moment  he  began  to  school  his 
heart  to  be  patient  in  its  struggle,  hoping  for 
better  things  in  the  future. 

There  was  another  reason  why  he  felt  that 
he  must  preserve  silence  in  regard  to  his  wishes  ; 
he  feared  that  now,  if  he  should  discover 
that  his  affection  was  returned  by  Ruth,  he 
might  find  it  difficult  to  give  all  the  time  and 
attention  necessary  for  the  successful  pursuit 
of  his  studies  and  labors.  Now  he  must 
devote  every  energy,  every  power,  every 
thought,  to  his  great  mission,  until  he  should 
be  so  firmly  established  in  its  pursuit  that  he 
could  with  safety  avert  his  eyes  from  the 
pathway  even  while  he  was  treading  it. 
Then,  and  then  only,  would  he  allow  the 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.        221 

desires  of  his  heart   the  gratification   which 
they  craved. 

He  arose  and  took  his  Bible  from  the  table, 
and  opened,  not  at  random,  but  naturally,  to 
one  of  the  places  at  which  he  loved  best  to 
read.  The  holy  words  were  a  balm  to  his 
spirit,  an  authoritative  voice  from  the  inspired 
word  of  God  speaking  unto  a  conscience  that 
reproached  not  its  possessor  : 

"  I  charge  thee,  therefore,  before  God  and 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  judge  the 
quick  and  the  dead  at  his  appearing  and  his 
kingdom,  preach  the  word ;  be  instant  in 
season,  out  of  season ;  reprove,  rebuke,  ex- 
hort, with  all  long-suffering  and  doctrine." 
And  again:  "  But  watch  thou  in  all  things, 
endure  afflictions,  do  the  work  of  an  evangel- 
ist, make  full  proof  of  thy  ministry."  And 
immediately  the  words  of  the  Master  himself 
came  to  the  young  man's  mind,  and  he  re- 
peated them  again  and  again  :  "  I  must  work 
the  works  of  him  that  sent  me  while  it  is  day  : 
the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 
RUTH'S  JOURNAL. 

IT  had  not  been  without  some  misgiv- 
ings on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Hathorne 
that  she  had  consented  to  the  plans 
formed  by  her  children  and  their  father  for  a 
visit  to  their  distant  friends.  She  was  secretly 
glad  when  Mr.  Hathorne  revoked  his  deci- 
sion, and  determined  that  Ruth  should  not  go 
with  John,  though  her  sympathy  for  her 
daughter  in  her  disappointment  led  her  to 
forget  her  own  preferences,  and  to  intercede 
with  her  husband  in  Ruth's  .behalf.  She 
feared,  as  did  her  husband,  the  influence  that 
might  be  exerted  upon  her  mind  to  lead  her 
away  from  the  faith,  but  she  had  not  the 
reasons  that  Mr.  Hathorne  had  for  wishing 
her  to  go  at  all  hazards ;  and  had  she  even 

328 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       223 

suspected  that  motives  of  worldly  advantage 
had  induced  her  husband  to  consent  to  the 
trial  of  his  daughter,  she  would  have  been 
wholly  averse  to  the  fulfillment  of  the  design. 
As  it  was,  she  was  unwilling  that  Ruth  should 
be  wholly  and  at  once  deprived  of  that 
mother's  influence  to  which  she  had  ever 
been  accustomed  in  the  past.  Therefore 
it  was  that  she  resolved  upon  a  plan  by 
which  she  hoped  some  of  it  might  still  be 
retained.  Ruth  should  keep  a  journal,  for 
the  ostensible  reason  that  her  mother  might 
be  made  a  participant  in  the  pleasures  of  her 
visit,  but  with  the  motive  of  greater  import- 
ance which  has  just  been  set  forth.  Mrs. 
Hathorne  hoped  that  her  daughter  might  be 
restrained  from  any  indiscreet  or  venturesome 
actions  or  thoughts,  feeling  that  she  must  sub- 
mit to  her  mother's  eye  a  correct  record  of 
all  that  occurred  in  connection  with  her 
visit. 

The  intentions  of  the  parent  were  of  the 
best ;  but,  ah !  how  short-sighted  to  believe 
that  the  innocent,  unsuspecting  soul  could 
be  fettered  in  its  aspirations  and  deep  work- 


<224        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

ings  by  so  slight  a  bond  !  Ruth  cheerfully 
acceded  to  her  mother's  request,  and  in  fulfill- 
ing its  obligations  she  had  no  thought  for  any- 
thing but  that  her  parent  should  share  as 
fully  as  possible  in  every  joy  and  every  sor- 
sow  of  her  own  heart. 

The  journal  was  made  for  the  mother's  eye  ; 
as  we  open  it,  therefore,  let  us  look  upon 
what  we  find  therein  as  the  offering  of  a 
child  to  a  parent ;  and  as  we  hereafter  make 
free  use  of  its  pages  we  may  remember  that, 
from  the  very  fact  that  they  were  not  intended 
for  our  perusal,  we  may  get  the  better  know- 
ledge of  the  life  they  describe. 

"Saturday,  August  7. — I  can  hardly  re- 
alize that  dear  Mary  is  so  much  older  than  I 
am,  there  is  so  much  sympathy  in  our  hearts 
for  each  other.  This  morning  we  had  a  long 
and  confidential  talk  together  about  our  future 
life,  and  what  we  hoped  it  might  be.  As  she 
spoke  of  having  desires  so  nearly  coincident 
with  my  own,  I  could  not  think  of  her  as 
thirty  years  old,  but  only  as  one  who  had 
seen  no  more  of  life  than  myself.  Ah  !  if  I 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         225 

could  only  be  sure  that  when  I  have  passed 
the  joys  and  sorrows  of  so  long  a  time  I  may 
bring  away  from  them  a  spirit  as  pure  and 
humble  as  hers,  I  should  not  tremble  as  I  do 
when  I  think  of  my  own  weakness  and  of 
what  the  future  may  have  in  store  for  me. 

"This  morning  I  rode  out  with  John,  as 
we  do  on  almost  every  pleasant  day,  and  he 
took  me  to  the  spot  that  Mr.  Williams  had 
previously  pointed  out  to  him  as  the  place 
where  the  Indians  gave  him  their  welcome, 
after  he  had  been  forced  to  leave  Seekonk 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  river.  John  says 
we  can  ride  to  Seekonk  some  day,  when  we 
have  time  enough  to  go  farther  up  the  stream, 
where  we  can  more  easily  find  means  to  cross. 
We  enjoy  these  rides  very  much,  all  the 
scenery  is  so  beautiful  and  new ;  I  am  only 
sorry  that  Mary  cannot  enjoy  them  with  us, 
but  she  has  never  ridden  and  fears  to  make 
the  attempt. 

"Ah,  mother,  as  I  write  this  afternoon, 
you  cannot  know  what  thoughts  are  pressing 
through  my  brain,  making  it  almost  painful 
for  me  to  remain  quiet  for  a  few  minutes  at  a 


226        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

time,  that  I  may  think  without  interruption. 
To-morrow  Paul  is  to  be  baptized,  and  John 
and  I  are  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  with 
Mr.  Williams'  family.  I  wish  I  could  pre- 
vent my  foolish — wicked,  in  this  instance — 
curiosity,  for  it  almost  torments  me,  I  so 
much  desire  to  know  of  these  doctrines  that 
Paul  has  received.  If  I  were  by  mother's  side, 
1  think  my  thoughts  would  not  trouble  me  so. 
She  would  clear  away  every  doubt,  every 
fear.  Without  her  influence  my  task  will  be 
a  hard  one.  I  cannot  talk  with  John ;  he 
would  only  put  me  off  in  his  blunt  way ;  he 
would  not  make  any  easier  my  struggle  with 
temptation.  Is  my  visit  an  ill-timed  one?  I 
will  pray  God  it  may  not  prove  so." 

"  Sunday  evening,  August  8. — The  holy 
hours  have  passed  away,  and  my  trouble  is 
not  allayed ;  it  is  even  changed  to  anxiety, 
my  doubt  and  desire  have  united  in  feverish 
solicitude,  and  I  am  wearied  with  thought. 

"  We  all  went  to  the  Baptist  meeting  this 
morning,  and  directly  after  the  services  the 
baptism  took  place.  The  exercises,  held  in  a 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILT.        22j 

grove,  were  very  much  like  our  own,  and 
therefore  were  different  from  what  I  sup- 
posed they  would  be  ;  for  I  did  not  think  Bap- 
tists and  Puritans  could  worship  God  in  the 
same  way,  they  are  so  very  different  in  belief. 
But  I  suppose  the  danger  is  the  greater,  as 
the  apparent  distinctions  are  less.  Yet  there 
is  one  question  that  troubles  me  :  How  can 
Paul  have  made  so  terrible  a  mistake,  after 
studying  so  carefully  not  only  our  faith,  but 
that  of  so  many  other  sects?  It  seems  to  me 
that  it  is  wrong  to  judge  even  heresy  till  we 
examine  it ;  but  I  remember  father  said  that 
was  a  dangerous  doctrine  when  Paul  said  so 
once  in  argument  with  John.  Oh  that  I  were 
not  so  weak,  so  prone  to  evil ! 

' '  But  I  am  not  writing  of  the  event  of  the 
day,  and  mother  will  find  my  diary  uninterest- 
ing if  I  am  not  more  careful.  I  did  not  like 
the  sermon,  it  was  so  different  from  the 
preaching  of  Master  Wilson,  though  I  con- 
fess I  learned  from  it  somewhat  of  the  things 
I  have  been  troubled  about  lately.  And,  after 
all,  it  was  not  so  much  what  was  said  as  the 
way  it  was  said  which  I  did  not  like.  I  had 


228        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

the  thought  continually  in  my  mind  that  the 
minister  knew  we  were  to  be  there  and  had 
written  his  sermon  particularly  for  us,  such 
was  his  manner  and  I  seemed  so  often  to  find 
his  eye  looking  directly  into  mine ;  but  I  am 
smiling  now  at  the  mere  remembrance  of  my 
presumption.  However,  I  forgot  all  unpleas- 
ant thoughts  when  we  left  the  grove  and  went 
away  to  the  bank  of  the  river. 

"  I  think,  if  the  beauty  of  the  ceremony  is 
considered,  the  Baptists  have  by  far  the  ad- 
vantage ;  but  of  course  it  is  wrong  even  to 
think  of  this,  for  if  their  way  is  not  the  true 
way,  it  is  all  the  worse  for  its  charm.  Yet  I 
cannot  help  thinking  this  very  beauty  of  the 
rite  may  be  an  argument  in  its  favor ;  for  the 
solemn,  peaceful  ceremony,  with  its  deep, 
symbolic  meaning,  seemed  to  me  almost 
worthy  of  divine  origin. 

"  The  assembly  at  the  river  was  a  very  large 
one,  yet  there  was  no  appearance  of  disorder, 
no  confusion  nor  noise ;  and  we  could  hear  the 
songs  of  the  birds  in  the  clear  air  above  us 
and  from  the  trees  near  by  as  plainly  as  if 
we  had  been  alone.  The  church  members 


MASTER  HATHORNR'S  FAMILT.        229 

were  assembled  in  a  group  by  themselves, 
and  suddenly  they  commenced  singing  a 
hymn.  I  could  not  catch  the  words,  as  John 
and  I  stood  at  some  distance  apart  from  them, 
but  Mary  repeated  them  to  me  after  we  came 
home,  and  they  were  so  beautiful  I  think  I 
shall  never  forget  them.  I  will  write  them 
here  as  she  said  them,  and  oh,  I  wish  I  could 
write  as  well  the  beautiful  melody  to  which 
they  were  sung;  for,  dear  mother,  if  you  had 
been  with  us  to  listen,  I  know  you  would 
have  wept  as  I  did,  and  would  have  half  for- 
given the  heresy  that  could  express  its  peace 
an .-'.  hope  and  joy  so  beautifully. 

'As  thou,  O  Christ  the  Blessed, 

Hast  bowed  thy  sacred  head, 
And  passed  beneath  the  portal 

That  openeth  for  the  dead ; 
As  thou  for  our  salvation 

Didst  lie  within  the  tomb, 
And  in  glorious  resurrection 

Depart  its  darksome  gloom ; 

'  So  we,  as  thou  in  Jordan, 

Thy  death  do  symbolize ; 
With  thee  we  lie  in  burial, 

With  thee  to  life  arise. 
20 


230        MASTER  HATHORNE*S  FAMILY. 

We  leave  our  deathly  garments 

Beneath  the  liquid  wave, 
And  show  thy  resurrection, 

Thou  Conqueror  of  the  grave. 

And  in  the  great  hereafter, 

From  care  and  pain  set  free, 
Ransomed,  thy  praises  we  shall  sing, 

The  joy  we  have  from  thee, 
And  standing  by  the  river 

That  flows  thy  throne  before, 
We  then  shall  see  thee  eye  to  eye. 

And  bless  thee  evermore.' 

' '  They  sang  these  words  as  they  all  stood 
on  the  shore,  with  Paul  and  the  minister  in 
their  midst.  After  the  hymn  words  of  prayer 
floated  out  over  the  multitude,  gathering  the 
devotion  of  the  many  hearts  before  soaring 
upward  to  the  bright,  peaceful  heavens. 

"Then  the  two  went  out  from  their  com- 
panions and  descended  slowly  into  the  water, 
while  the  silence  on  the  shore  was  so  great 
that  we  could  hear  even  the  dash  of  the  little 
ripples  as  they  broke  upon  the  beach.  The 
minister's  voice  was  distinctly  audible  as  he 
pronounced  the  solemn  formula  of  baptism, 
and,  mother,  as  he  spoke  I  saw  the  face  of 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       231 

Paul,  and  it  was  so  calm,  so  peaceful,  and  at 
the  same  time  so  full  of  triumphant  joy,  that  I 
almost  thought  he  saw  the  Christ  whom  he 
was  following  as  he  gazed  so  fixedly  toward 
his  beautiful  sky. 

"  They  sang  again  as  they  came  up  out  of 
the  water,  and  Paul  and  his  companion  joined 
in  the  singing,  making  it  seem  to  me  that  the 
band  upon  the  shore  was  giving  its  welcome 
to  those  who  answered  from  the  water,  and 
all  uniting  in  the  praise  of  God. 

"  There  was  only  one  thing  I  wanted  then ; 
I  felt  that  if  dear  mother  were  only  with  me, 
to  see  and  enjoy  the  beautiful  scene  in  all  its 
solemnity  and  depth  of  meaning,  and  to  know 
the  thoughts  in  her  poor  daughter's  mind,  I 
should  be  content.  Yet  I  knew  I  could  never 
be  content  until  I  should  be  either  satisfied 
my  thoughts  were  right,  or  convinced  of  their 
sinfulness,  so  that  I  could  put  them  away 
for  ever.  And  that  brings  me  back  again 
to  the  all-absorbing  question !  Oh,  that  I 
may  be  helped  to  do  what  is  right — what 
my  Saviour  would  wish  me  to  do." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 
RUTH'S  PERPLEXITIES. 

IEDNESDAY,  August  n.— it  h?s  been 

very  rainy  for  the  last  two  days,  and 
now,  as  I  write,  the  sun  seems  very 
reluctant  to  show  his  face,  reminding  me  of  a 
naughty  child  who  has  been  commanded  by 
his  parent  to  dry  his  tears,  and  who  complies 
with  poor  grace.  On  account  of  the  weather 
we  have  been  obliged  to  omit  our  daily  rides 
and  out-of-door  occupations,  and  confine  our- 
selves to  the  house.  John,  of  course,  has  not 
been  so  closely  imprisoned  as  I  have,  and  has 
passed  some  time  with  Paul  at  his  rooms ;  but 
I  have  found  the  time  to  pass  not  wearily, 
but  uncomfortably,  for  I  have  had  no  out- 
ward circumstances  to  call  away  my  thoughts 
from  the  temptation  within — that  temptation 
222 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        233 

which  I  have  come  to  look  upon  as  so  dread- 
fi.l,  and  which,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts,  I 
cannot  escape. 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  troubles  me  very 
much  :  the  more  I  pray  to  God  to  keep  me 
from  evil,  to  keep  me  even  from  my  sinful 
thoughts,  the  harder  I  find  it  to  banish  from 
my  mind  these  questions  that  vex  me  con- 
tinually. It  seems  as  if  there  is  some  power 
outside  of  myself  that  forces  me  to  ponder 
the  subject  I  would  so  gladly  put  off.  Ah, 
dear  mother — for  I  remember  always  that  I 
am  writing  this  for  you — if  you  could  only 
be  by  my  side  I  know  your  poor,  perplexed 
daughter  would  lose  half  her  trouble. 

"A  half  hour  has  passed  since  I  wrote 
the  above  words,  and  almost  without  knowing 
it  I  have  been  over  the  whole  ground  again, 
until  now  I  think  suddenly  of  my  diary,  and 
find  it  has  fallen  from  my  lap,  unheeded,  to 
the  floor.  I  have  come  to  a  determination 
upon  one  point.  The  clouds  have  all  closed 
up  again,  and  I  fear  there  will  be  no  sunshine 
to-day ;  I  must  find  what  comfort  I  can,  for  I 

think  it  may  assist  me  somewhat  in  writing 
20* 


^34       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

down  some  of  the  thoughts  that  trouble  me 
so,  just  as  I  should  pour  them  out  into 
mother's  ear,  if  she  were  with  me. 

"  I  think  Paul's  baptism  has  had  a  great  in- 
fluence upon  me,  because  it  has  materially 
changed  some  of  the  views  I  formerly  held, 
and  has  intensified  some  thoughts  which  I 
before  passed  over  with  little  notice.  This 
first  immersion  that  I  have  ever  seen  has  not 
impressed  me  as  I  feared  it  would,  leading  me 
to  regard  those  who  practice  the  rite  as  utterly 
filled  with  folly,  substituting  for  our  own 
beautiful  form  one  without  comeliness  of  any 
sort,  unauthorized  either  by  Scripture  or 
usage,  and  unnecessary  for  the  fulfillment 
of  Christ's  commands ;  and  I  am  glad  this 
fear  of  mine  was  groundless,  for  I  should 
be  sorry  to  think  thus  of  Mary  or  of  Paul.  But 
so  far  from  this  has  been  the  effect  of  the 
ceremony  upon  my  mind  that  I  can  no  longer 
regard  our  own  form  as  even  satisfactory, 
when  I  look  at  it  as  the  outward  expression 
of  inward  consecration  to  Christ;  and  more 
than  this,  and  what  troubles  me  most  of  all, 
I  can  no  longer  read  the  history  of  the 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       235 

Saviour's  baptism  in  Jordan  without  the  re- 
membrance •  of  last  Sunday's  scene  coming 
vividly  before  my  mind.  I  am  certain  this 
only  immersion  I  have  seen  would  not  come 
so  instantly  to  mind  if  I  were  not  conscious 
that  it  is  a  close  imitation  of  the  scene  de- 
scribed by  the  sacred  writers ;  and  therefore 
the  conviction — ah,  mother,  it  is  fast  becom- 
ing a  conviction ! — that  the  Baptists  do  not 
lack  authority  for  their  practice  is  forced 
upon  me  with  a  power  almost  irresistible. 

"  Still  I  am  not  ready  to  say  that  we  are 
wrong;  that  the  Baptists  have  the  only 
authority.  God  knows  I  would  not  dare  to 
say  that  I,  a  poor,  weak,  uneducated  girl, 
am  better  fitted  to  judge  of  such  a  question 
than  all  the  learned  men  who  have  stood  at 
the  head  of  our  church  for  ages  !  Even  our 
own  good  Master  Wilson  ought  to  know  what 
is  the  Lord's  will  in  this  matter,  and  surely  it 
is  not  right  for  me  to  dispute  his  authority, 
when  I  see  that  he  has  not  only  concluded 
for  himself,  but  is  so  well  convinced  that  he 
hesitates  not  to  teach  his  way  to  others  as 
the  way  the  Lord  commands.  But  the  best 


236       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

are  mistaken  sometimes ;  the  wisest  are  often 
led  astray  ;  and  the  dear  Saviour  gave  thanks 
to  the  Father  because  some  things  were 
hidden  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  re- 
vealed unto  babes. 

**  I  have  been  thinking  to-day  I  would  talk 
with  John ;  yet  I  am  very  reluctant  to  take 
this  step,  for  I  know  I  can  expect  but  little 
sympathy  from  him,  though  of  course  he 
would  give  me  advice  and  help  me  as  far 
as  he  had  the  power.  Mary  has  been  very 
thoughtful  and  kind,  not  speaking  to  me 
at  all  upon  the  subject  that  she  must  know 
occupies  so  much  of  my  attention ;  and 
I  am  grateful  for  her  delicate  reserve,  for  I 
should  not  like  to  have  her  urge  me  to  her 
way  of  thinking  without  regard  to  my  own 
feelings,  as  many  might  do  in  the  present 
circumstances.  I  have  thought  of  telling 
her  plainly  all  my  trouble,  but  she  could 
not  help  me  to  the  right,  if  the  right  is  really 
as  we  believe  it  to  be.  She  could  only  lead 
me  still  farther  astray.  I  am  resolved  to  tell 
John  all  and  ask  him  to  help  me. 

"  I  believe  this  anxiety,  this  constant  strif-, 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        237 

is  making  me  ill.  My  cheeks  are  hot,  my 
eyes  burn,  and  my  aching  head  throbs  heav- 
ily. I  must  not  be  sick  so  far  away  from 
home.  On  Thursday,  that  is,  to-morrow,  if 
the  weather  is  favorable,  John  and  I  are  to  ride 
to  Seekonk  and  then  a  few  miles  farther  on 
into  the  forest,  to  visit  the  encampment  of 
Long  Solomon's  tribe,  to  which  he  is  again 
united,  since  his  great  bravery  in  defending 
us  against  the  red-skins  who  attacked  us  has 
won  for  him  again  the  respect  of  the  tribe.  I 
am  glad  for  Solomon,  the  brave,  good  old 
friend.  I  shall  never  forget  I  owe  my  life  to 
him.  If  we  ride  as  we  intend,  there  will  be 
a  good  opportunity  to  talk  with  John." 

"  Thursday  Morning^  August  12. — Is  it 
my  lot  to  wander  on  in  darkness,  without  any 
helping  hand  to  lead  me,  until  I  may  of  my 
own  efforts  find  the  light?  No !  I  am  wrong 
to  let  such  a  thought  creep  into  my  mind  even 
for  an  instant;  I  fear  it  was  almost  impious. 
God  will  give  me  aid,  though  he  may  delay 
it  •  and  if  I  have  his  guiding  hand,  what  finite 
helper  do  I  need? 


238        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

"The  day  is  mild  and  clear  and  beautiful, 
but  I  am  forced  to  stay  at  home  and  my  talk 
with  John  must  be  put  off.  Of  one  thing  I  am 
glad,  however  :  Mary  has  at  last  been  induced 
to  mount  my  horse,  and  John  is  giving  her  the 
first  riding-lesson.  I  hope  it  may  not  be  the 
last,  and  I  think  she  will  soon  find  courage 
enough,  to  sit  as  easily  upon  my  saddle  as  on 
the  pillion  behind  her  father. 

"  I  can  write  no  more  to-day.  Is  it  wrong 
to  wish  I  were  too  ill  to  think  ?  to  perplex  my- 
self farther  throughout  the  long,  long  day  ?" 

"  Friday,  August  13. — I  am  much  better 
to-day,  and  think  it  could  only  have  been  a  lit- 
tle cold  that  made  me  so  unwell  yesterday.  I 
hardly  thought  it  prudent  to  ride,  however, 
when  John  asked  me  this  morning,  and  I  per- 
suaded him  that  it  would  be  better  for  us  both 
if  he  would  remain  at  home,  as  I  wished  to 
talk  with  him.  I  think  he  knew  what  I  had 
in  mind,  for  he  stood  a  few  moments  looking 
thoughtfully  into  my  eyes,  and  then  without  a 
word  he  turned  away  and  went  to  order  the 
horses  to  the  stable. 


MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.        239 

"  When  he  returned  I  beckoned  him  to  fol- 
low me,  and  led  the  way  to  my  room.  It  so 
happened  that  Mary  was  away  looking  after 
some  poor  people  who  had  lately  come  to  the 
town,  and  I  knew  we  should  be  uninterrupted. 
When  we  were  seated  I  told  him  plainly  all 
that  was  agitating  my  mind,  concealing  noth- 
ing of  the  trouble  I  have  felt  for  the  last  few 
days,  and  of  the  seemingly  hopeless  task  be- 
fore me,  the  decision  of  the  question  contin- 
ually forcing  itself  upon  my  mind.  Brother 
was  very  patient  with  me — much  more  so  than 
I  thought  he  would  be — and  he  listened  very 
attentively  till  I  finished  speaking.  I  think 
he  felt  a  good  deal  for  me,  for  I  believe  I  saw 
a  tear  in  his  eye  once  or  twice,  and  when  I 
had  told  him  all,  he  arose  and  walked  away 
to  the  window,  where  he  stood  looking  out  for 
some  time  without  speaking.  At  last,  when 
I  had  begun  to  fear  he  was  after  all  displeased 
and  angry,  he  came  back  and  sat  down  by  my 
side,  very  kindly  and  gently  taking  my  hand 
in  his  while  he  spoke. 

"  He  said  he  had  feared  for  some  time  that 
I  was  suffering  from  some  such  cause  as  this, 


2?0       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

and  so  he  was  not  surprised  that  I  now  came 
to  him  with  my  story.  And,  moreover,  he  said 
he  was  perplexed  how  to  answer  me  or  help 
me  out  of  my  difficulty,  for  he  was  little  better 
able  to  fully  understand  the  way  of  truth  than 
I.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  told  me  of  a  long 
conversation  he  had  with  Paul  a  few  days  ago, 
in  which  he  learned  more  of  the  Baptist  doc 
trine  than  he  had  ever  known  before,  and  he 
advised  me  to  ask  Mary  whatever  questions 
might  occur  to  me  from  time  to  time,  that  the 
way  to  the  truth  might  become  as  plain  and 
easy  as  possible.  Particularly  he  urged  me 
to  let  no  worldly  considerations  influence  me 
in  deciding  for  myself.  However  much  I 
might  desire  to  avoid  injuring  the  feelings  of 
our  dear  parents ;  however  much  the  claims 
of  all  our  kindred  might  force  themselves 
upon  my  attention  ;  and  even  though  I  might 
be  called  upon  to  sacrifice  personal  peace  and 
happiness  in  the  future, — it  was  my  duty,  he 
said,  to  allow  no  observation  to  be  slighted, 
no  argument  or  consideration  to  be  passed  by 
that  could  assist  in  leading  me  to  the  right 
conclusion.  He  told  me  plainly  that  he 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY,       241 

thought  it  the  duty  of  every  one  to  examine 
carefully  and  prayerfully  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
and  by  the  light  there  found  to  establish  for 
himself  his  own  belief,  and  not  to  follow 
blindly  in  the  footsteps  of  men  who  have  gone 
before.  He  acknowledged  that  he  had  been 
too  remiss  in  the  past,  too  prone  to  take  every- 
thing as  he  found  it,  believing  in  all  things 
firmly  established  as  having  the  absolute, 
unquestionable  authority  of  God.  But  upon 
him  also  the  conversion  of  Paul  and  his  union 
with  this  sect  have  had  a  great  and  irresist- 
ible influence,  and  he  has  been  led  to  weigh 
in  the  balance  of  Holy  Writ  the  teachings  of 
the  church  of  which  we  are  members  and  of 
that  in  whose  midst  we  now  are. 

"I  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  John  so 
ready  for  the  conversation  which  I  have  so 
long  desired,  yet  looked  forward  to  with  a 
feeling  of  anxiety  and  almost  dread.  I  was 
yet  more  surprised  to  find  him  so  liberal,  so 
prepared  to  grant  to  every  one  the  liberty  of 
believing  as  for  himself,  nay,  to  insist  upon 
religious  freedom  as  firmly  as  Paul  himself. 

Indeed,  I  think  John  is  out  of  place  at  home 
21  Q 


242        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

in  Boston,  and  I  doubt  if  he  ever  lives  there 
again  in  peace  and  quiet,  for  either  he  must 
change  much  in  his  opinions  or  a  more  liberal 
spirit  must  spring  up  and  grow  in  the  colony, 
if  he  is  to  be  tolerated  in  the  community 
where  he  has  lived  so  long.  But  I  believe 
that  there  is  yet  a  greater  change  in  store  for 
him,  for  his  earnest,  soulfelt  words  have  con- 
vinced me  that  he  will  not  stop  in  the  in- 
vestigation of  this  question  until  it  has  led 
him  far  away  from  the  faith  of  his  fathers. 

"When  he  arose  to  leave  me  after  we  had 
talked  together  for  more  than  two  hours,  he 
placed  his  hand  on  my  head,  and  reminded 
me  again  that  in  questions  like  the  one  we 
are  now  considering  the  highest  authority  is 
the  word  of  God,  and  he  added  that  hence- 
forward in  every  religious  controversy  the 
Holy  Scriptures  should  be  his  only  guide. 

"When  he  had  left  me,  I  could  only  fall 
upon  my  knees  and  pray  the  good  and  merci- 
ful God  to  give  us  both  strength  and  know- 
ledge, that  we  might  be  prepared  for  every 
event  of  the  future,  for  every  bold  and  noble 
Christian  deed,  for  every  trial  and  every  sor 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       243 

row,  and  for  the  hour  of  blessing  and  of 
triumph. 

"  On  Mary's  return  she  came  immediately 
to  bur  room,  and  after  a  little  conversation  on 
other  subjects,  I  asked  her  some  questions 
that  I  have  long  desired  to  have  answered. 
When  she  had  told  me  all  I  wished,  I  was 
sorry  I  had  not  asked  long  before,  for  it 
would  have  saved  much  vain  trouble  and 
speculation.  Very  many  doubts  were  cleared 
away  and  much  information  was  given  me. 
Since  my  conversation  with  her  I  have  been 
going  over  again  in  my  mind  many  argu- 
ments that  have  now  assumed  a  new  aspect. 

"The  chief  question  with  me  now  is 
whether  baptism  is  to  be  administered  only 
to  those  who  believe,  or  whether  infants  also 
may  be  baptized.  I  am  ready  to  acknowledge 
that  there  is  no  account  given  in  the  Bible  of 
the  baptism  of  infants,  and  I  have  heard  both 
John  and  Paul  say  that  we  have  no  proof  that 
the  rite  has  the  authority  of  the  apostles ;  but 
in  some  way  or  other  it  has  become  firmly 
established  in  the  church,  and  the  spotless 
purity  of  the  little  ones  to  whom  it  is  admin- 


244        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

istered  seems  to  me  to  plead  strongly  in  its 
favor.  I  suppose  there  are  arguments,  strong 
and  convincing,  which  wiser  heads  than  mine 
might  urge,  but  this  simple  consideration  is 
enough  for  me ;  at  least  it  is  sufficient  to  hold 
my  thoughts  and  prevent  me  from  acceding 
at  once  to  the  views  of  the  Baptists." 

"  Sunday  evening^  August  15. — The 
whole  day  have  I  spent  in  prayerful  study  of 
my  Bible.  Mrs.  Williams,  kind  and  careful 
as  she  ever  is,  thought  I  had  better  not  go  to 
meeting,  as  it  is  held  in  the  grove,  for  they 
have  no  meeting-house,  and  I  readily  ac- 
quiesced in  her  decision,  because  I  am  still 
unwell.  I  am  grateful  for  every  moment 
of  quiet  I  can  get,  in  order  to  study  and 
think. 

"  So  great  a  change  has  come  upon  me 
that  I  am  no  longer  troubled  when  I  ponder 
the  questions  that  have  so  long  agitated  my 
thoughts.  I  have  fully  determined  one  point, 
and  that  is,  that  whatever  I  may  find  to  be 
my  duty,  whether  to  renounce  my  old  faith 
or  to  cling  to  it  more  strongly  than  ever,  I 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        245 

must  still  act  according  to  my  convictions,  of 
right,  even  at  the  expense  of  my  own  happi- 
ness and  that  of  others.  It  has  been  very 
hard  for  me  to  come  to  such  a  decision,  but 
now  that  it  is  made  I  am  much  calmer,  much 
happier.  But,  ah,  how  sad  I  shall  be  if  I 
am  forced  to  grieve  those  dear  ones  at  home 
who  have  loved  me  so  tenderly,  who  have 
watched  over  me  with  perfect  care  from  my 
infancy,  and  who  are  even  now  counting  the 
days  for  their  daughter's  return  !  Must  that 
return  bring  sorrow  and  discord  to  the  happy 
home?  God  only  knows  !  But  he  has  shown 
me  that  it  will  be  better  to  displease  my 
earthly  parents  than  to  grieve  my  heavenly 
Father. 

"  There  is  one  thing  of  which  I  am  glad  : 
neither  Mary  nor  her  parents  nor  Paul  have 
urged  upon  me  the  consideration  of  their 
views.  It  would  be  wrong  to  say  that  I  am 
as  free  from  influence — Baptist  influence — here 
as  I  should  be  at  home ;  but  in  fact  not  a 
word  has  been  said  to  me  on  this  subject 
unless  I  have  first  requested  it.  If  I  do 
become  a  Baptist,  no  one  will  be  charged  by 
21* 


246        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

my  parents  with  resorting  to  proselytism  for 
my  conversion. 

"  I  trembled  as  I  penned  those  words  :  if  1 
do  become  a  Baptist.  How  much  is  involved 
in  becoming  a  Baptist?  I  cannot  live  here  ;  I 
must  return  to  my  home — my  home,  where 
the  sect  is  persecuted,  hated,  shunned  as  an 
evil  thing.  I  shall  destroy  the  peace  and  joy 
that  have  always  dwelt  beneath  our  roof;  I 
shall  bring  disgrace  and  insult  upon  the  head 
of  my  dear,  dear  father;  I  may  hurry  my 
patient  and  loving  mother  to  a  sorrowful 
grave ;  I  may  myself  be  rejected  by  all  those 
who  are  dear  to  me,  cast  out  from  home,  held 
up  to  public  scorn  and  ridicule — nay,  more,  be 
subjected  perhaps  to  public  disgrace  and  pun- 
ishment. I  shudder  at  the  thought.  Ah  !  it 
was  cruel,  as  I  always  thought,  to  be  so  terri- 
bly severe  against  the  poor  Quakers;  but 
when  one  is  liable  to  the  same  persecution, 
how  much  more  does  he  feel  the  sting  of  in- 
justice and  wrong ! 

"  Last  evening,  after  the  closing  worship 
of  the  day,  Mr.  Williams  came  to  me  and 
taking  me  by  the  hand  drew  me  aside  into  his 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        247 

study,  while  the  others  passed  on  to  their 
rooms.  I  could  not  think  at  first  what  he 
wished,  but  he  soon  set  my  mind  at  rest,  for 
he  took  from  his  desk  a  little  paper  and  un- 
folding it,  began  to  read.  It  was  a  letter  from 
home,  from  dear  father,  which  he  had  just 
received  from  the  hands  of  a  neighbor  who 
had  been  on  a  visit  to  Boston.  I  could  not 
keep  the  tears  from  my  eyes  as  he  read  the 
words  my  father's  hand  had  written.  The 
good  man  saw  my  emotion,  and  took  my  hand 
in  his  while  he  continued  to  read.  Though 
the  letter  was  not  written  to  me,  it  contained 
much  in  which  I  was  interested,  beside  the 
tidings  of  the  good  health  of  all  the  dear  ones. 
When  Mr.  Williams  had  finished  reading,  he 
turned  again  to  his  desk  and  took  out  a  little 
parcel  for  me.  I  had  already  begun  to  won- 
der that  the  messenger  had  brought  nothing 
for  me  when  father  had  found  time  to  write 
to  Mr.  Williams,  but  now  I  saw  at  once  the 
kindness  of  the  latter  in  allowing  me  to  enjoy 
the  contents  of  his  own  letter  before  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  it  would  be  lessened  by 
the  perusal  of  my  own. 


248        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

"I  carried  my  package  to  my  room  and 
read  and  re-read  the  precious  words  from 
father,  mother,  Grace,  and  even  little  Willie ; 
for  his  *  Dear  sister,  love  me,'  that  his  little 
hand  guided  by  mother's,  I  know,  had  printed 
for  me,  was  not  in  any  respect  unworthy  of 
the  many,  many  kisses  I  pressed  upon  it.  It 
was  long  past  midnight  when  I  put  my  treas- 
ures away  and  lay  down  by  the  side  of  Mary ; 
but  even  then  I  could  not  sleep  for  thinking 
over  my  letters,  and  I  pictured  out  to  myself 
the  dear  ones  at  home  as  they  had  gathered 
around  the  table  in  the  evening  to  write  to  the 
absent  ones.  Ah  !  we  never  know  what  home 
is  till  we  are  far  away  from  it ;  and  even  then 
the  missives  that  are  so  cherished  only  renew 
the  pang  we  felt  at  separation,  although  we 
long  for  them  and  value  them  more  than  gold. 

"John  came  to  my  room  this  morning  to  read 
my  letters,  and  we  afterward  had  a  few  min- 
utes to  talk  together  before  it  was  time  for  the 
meeting.  I  think  it  will  not  be  long  before  he 
tells  me  his  decision,  in  one  way  or  another. 
And  I ?  Whither  shall  I  turn?" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE   DECISION   OF  JOHN   AND   RUTH. 

jjONDAY,  August  30. — Again,  after  so 
long  an  interval,  I  open  my  diary  to 
write — my  diary,  that  is  to  be,  after 
all,  only  a  disappointment  to  her  for  whom  it 
is  written.  I  have  had  many  joys,  many 
cares,  and  much  pain  and  suffering  during 
my  visit,  but  the  pages  of  my  journal  will 
give  to  my  mother  only  a  short  and  meagre 
account  of  the  days  I  have  passed  so  far  away 
from  her. 

' '  I  have  been  sick.  For  two  long  and  weary 
weeks  there  has  hardly  been  an  hour  when  I 
have  been  free  from  pain.  The  cold  that  was 
upon  me  when  I  last  wrote  was  only  deceiv- 
ing us  when  we  thought  it  passing  off;  and 
on  Monday  morning,  two  weeks  ago  to-day, 
I  was  too  ill  to  rise  from  bed.  A  week  passed 

249 


25°         MASTER    HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

before  I  began  to  grow  better — a  week  of 
much  suffering,  yet  not  without  its  advantages, 
for  I  have  come  to  know  what  true  and  kind 
friends  are  those  with  whom  we  are  staying. 
I  can  never  be  grateful  enough  to  dear  Mrs. 
Williams  and  her  good  husband,  and  to  my 
sweet,  patient,  loving  friend  Mary.  She 
hardly  left  me  for  a  moment  while  I  was  con- 
fined to  my  bed,  and  she  has  shown  me  every 
attention  possible.  It  was  last  Thursday  that 
I  sat  up  for  the  first  time,  and  since  that  day  I 
have  steadily  grown  stronger  and  better,  until 
now  I  am  able  to  commence  my  writing 
again. 

"Paul  has  been  to  see  me  several  times 
during  the  last  few  days,  and  my  room  has 
been  supplied  with  flowers  through  his  kind 
care  ever  since  I  was  taken  sick.  He  has 
commenced  his  studies  with  Mr.  Williams,  and 
is  closeted  with  him  two  hours  of  each  day ; 
then  he  comes  to  sit  with  me  a  little  while, 
and  tell  me  of  what  he  is  doing  and  is  going 
to  do. 

"  I  wonder  if  dear  mother  would  refuse  her 
permission  to  the  marriage  of  her  daughter 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.         251 

with  Paul  ?  I  have  been  led  to  think  much  of 
the  subject  during  the  last  week,  for  Paul  has 
so  often  spoken  of  Grace,  and  in  such  terms 
that  it  is  easy  to  see  how  his  thoughts  are  run- 
ning. It  is  true  he  is  a  Baptist,  but  I  hope 
that  when  the  proper  time  shall  come  there 
will  be  no  hindrance  to  the  union  of  our  dear 
little  Grace  with  one  whom  we  esteem  so 
highly.  I  should  like  Paul  for  a  brother,  and 
I  feel  sure  that  John  has  no  more  cherished 
wish  than  to  welcome  him  into  our  family, 
our  home.  But  then  we  must  perhaps  lose 
our  little  Grace,  and  she  will  be  transplanted 
to  Paul's  home  here  instead  of  retaining  him 
at  ours  in  Boston.  It  would  be  a  sore  loss, 
and  it  would  be  hard  work  to  sustain  it  with 
equanimity ;  but  the  change  must  come  some 
time,  and  it  will  be  a  cause  for  joy  if  one  who 
is  no  more  a  stranger  than  Paul  shall  inaugu- 
rate it." 

"Tuesday,  August  31. — 'Know  ye  not, 
that  so  many  of  us  as  were  baptized  into 
Jesus  Christ  were  baptized  into  his  death? 
Therefore  we  are  buried  with  him  by  bap- 


252       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

tism  into  death ;  that  like  as  Christ  was 
raised  up  from  the  dead  by  the  glory  of  the 
Father,  even  so  we  also  should  walk  in  new- 
ness of  life.  For  if  we  have  been  planted 
together  in  the  likeness  of  his  death,  we  shall 
be  also  in  the  likeness  of  his  resurrection. 
Buried  with  him  in  baptism,  wherein  also 
ye  are  risen  with  him  through  the  faith  of  the 
operation  of  God,  who  hath  raised  him  from 
the  dead.' 

"The  time  has  come!  These  words  are 
no  longer  meaningless  to  me ;  they  have  at 
last  brought  me  out  of  my  darkness,  and  they 
stand  before  me  in  letters  of  light,  showing 
unto  me  the  truth  of  God.  How  bitterly 
sorrowful  I  am  that  I  have  lived  so  long 
without  obeying  my  dear  Saviour's  com- 
mand 1  that  I  have  hesitated  as  to  my  duty 
when  the  pages  of  Scripture  have  ever  held 
the  same  significant  words  as  now  I 

"Jesus  came  from  Nazareth  of  Galilee, 
and  was  baptized  of  John  in  Jordan.  I  too 
will  be  baptized  in  Jordan.  I  will  follow  the 
footsteps  of  the  Master,  I  will  go  down  intc 
the  water  and  come  up  out  of  the  water,  I 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        253 

will  truly  symbolize,  as  did  the  great  Ex- 
emplar, the  death  unto  sin  and  the  resurrec- 
tion unto  life.  And  then,  though  my  lot  may 
be  one  of  trial  and  suffering,  the  blessed  re- 
membrance that  the  Christ  whom  I  follow 
was  persecuted  even  in  the  same  way  shall 
give  me  comfort  and  peace. 

"I  am  a  Baptist — my  parents  would  say  a 
heretic — but  God  knows  in  whose  heart  is  the 
truth.  I  am  a  Baptist,  and  though  I  am 
trembling,  fearing,  weeping,  as  I  write — for 
I  am  weak,  too  weak  to  bear  the  sorrow  of 
imposing  so  much  anguish  on  others — I  am 
still  rejoicing  with  a  heart  full  of  happiness 
and  thanksgiving  that  the  Father  hath  at 
last  brought  me  to  the  end  of  the  contest  and 
given  me  the  knowledge  of  his  truth.  Now 
it  only  remains  for  me  to  receive  strength  to 
perform  the  duty  indicated  by  that  truth. 

"  The  other  doctrines  held  by  the  Baptists 
John  explained  to  me  fully  the  day  after  Mary 
taught  me  what  they  are,  and  I  soon  saw  the 
beauty  and  truth  of  those  few  in  which  I  had 
not  already  believed.  Only  this  one  was 

left,  and  from  the  very  reason  that  this  is  the 
22 


254        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT. 

most  prominent,  most  distinctive  of  all,  it  was 
the  hardest  for  me  to  receive.  But  all  the 
struggle  is  now  over,  and  peace  of  mind  has 
again  come  back  to  me." 

"  Wednesday,  September  i. — As  I  have 
had  little  heart  in  the  common  events  of  life 
while  my  thoughts  have  been  so  taken  up  by 
the  perplexities  of  the  last  few  weeks,  so  I 
have  not  written  as  fully  of  those  events  as  I 
should  otherwise  have  done.  Now  they  shall 
claim  their  proper  place  again. 

"This  morning,  as  Mr.  Williams  was  away 
on  business,  Paul  came  and  sat  with  me  an 
hour,  and  then,  supported  by  his  arm,  I  took 
my  first  walk  in  the  open  air  since  I  was 
taken  ill.  He  was,  of  course,  very  much  re- 
joiced that  I  had  been  led  to  adopt  his  own 
faith,  and  I  learned  much  from  his  conversa- 
tion, though  he  could  hardly  talk  calmly  on 
account  of  his  happiness  that  I  had  found  the 
truth.  We  endeavored  to  conjecture  the  influ- 
ence my  decision  might  have  on  John,  who 
has  now  been  absent  two  days.  I  long  for 
his  return.  He  went  away  upon  business 


MASTER  HATHORNE'b   FAMILT.         255 

affairs,  as  he  said,  though  I  strongly  suspect 
he  wished  to  be  alone,  away  from  all  friends, 
all  who  could  exercise  any  influence  upon 
him,  until  he  should  have  considered  care- 
fully and  settled  definitely  the  great  question 
that  I  have  now  laid  aside  as  settled.  If 
solitude  is  what  he  desires,  and  if  he  wishes 
it  for  this  purpose,  his  absence  is  no  errand 
of  business,  but  a  pilgrimage  in  search  of 
truth  and  peace. 

' '  As  we  walked  back  and  forth  in  the 
pleasant  garden-path,  Paul  spoke  again  of 
Grace,  seeming  to  love  to  talk  of  her,  and  he 
spoke  even  more  plainly  than  ever  before, 
praising  her  beauty  and  above  all  the  loveli- 
ness of  her  character,  which,  he  said,  could 
only  attract  the  affection  of  every  one  who 
met  her. 

"I  think  Paul  feels  deeply,  far  more  deeply 
than  he  would  let  any  one  know,  the  action 
of  his  father  in  disowning  him  on  account  of 
his  bold  stand  for  the  truth.  He  needs  a 
home,  and  without  one  he  will  never  be  con- 
tented ;  and  therefore  when  he  talks  so  much 
of  our  little  Grace  it  is  easy  for  me  to  see 


25          MASTER  HATHORNR'S  FAM1LT. 

whither  his  thoughts  are  turning.  I  do  not 
at  all  wonder  at  this  attachment  that  is  so 
manifest  in  Paul.  Grace  is  so  winsome,  so 
happy  in  disposition  and  manner,  so  lovely 
and  sweet  in  character,  that  it  would  be  more 
worthy  of  wonder  if  such  a  young  man  as 
Paul,  who  is  so  good  and  noble,  and  who  has 
frequented  so  much  our  family  circle,  did  not 
come  to  love  her  and  to  wish  for  her  dear 
companionship  always.  Paul's  love  too  would 
be  increased  by  the  peculiar  circumstances  in 
which  he  is  placed,  for  it  is  only  natural  that 
one  who  is  bereft  of  the  love  due  to  him  from 
his  kinsmen  should  seek  to  replace  it  by  an- 
other which  should  richly  compensate  for  all 
his  loss. 

"But  I  fear  all  will  not  be  well  with  the 
two.  First,  is  it  not  vain  to  hope  that  father 
will  give  his  daughter  to  one  whom  he  has 
cast  out  from  his  own  heart  and  home  ?  I  can- 
not believe  that  even  Paul  has  this  expectation, 
and  surely  it  would  be  but  increased  pain  to 
be  forced  to  abstain  from  plucking  the  fruit 
that  would  more  than  satisfy  the  hunger  of 
his  craving — nay,  starving — nature.  Then 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        257 

even  if  father's  consent  could  be  obtained, 
there  are  two  reasons  why  I  should  fear  for 
the  happiness  of  both  Paul  and  Grace :  not 
only  is  she  so  young  as  to  be  hardly  capable 
of  determining  whether  she  really  loves  Paul 
well  enough  for  a  life  union  or  not,  but  our 
little  Grace  would  also  find  a  drawback  upon 
her  joy  from  the  difference  between  her  faith 
and  that  of  Paul,  which  would  probably  lead 
to  mutual  sorrow,  particularly  if  the  times  are 
to  be  as  stormy  as  they  have  been  in  the  past. 
Yet  all  these  fears  may  be  idle ;  and  when  I 
say  that  it  is  my  wish  to  bring  about  this  great 
joy  if  it  is  possible,  I  only  give  utterance  to 
the  most  cherished  hope  of  my  heart.  Dear 
little  Grace,  our  pet,  how  happy,  how  blessed 
she  would  be  ! 

"  I  feel  that  my  walk  tired  me,  though  it 
gave  me  strength  at  the  same  time.  If  the 
pleasant  weather  continues,  I  shall  grow 
better  rapidly." 

"  Thursday,  September  2. — Paul  will  be 
here  in  a  few  minutes  to  take  me  to  ride  with 
Mr.  Williams  and  Mary.     We  are  to  ride  in 
22*  a 


258       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

the  vicinity  of  the  town  for  an  hour  or  two. 
Mr.  Williams  asked  me  to  his  study  just  after 
prayers  this  morning,  and  we  talked  much  of 
the  change  in  my  religious  belief  and  of  the 
duties  that  it  imposes  upon  me.  I  thought  I 
fully  realized  what  they  were  before,  but  they 
assumed  double  importance  as  they  were 
clothed  in  the  good  man's  words,  and  I  be- 
gan to  fear  that  I  could  never  satisfy  my 
conscience,  never  please  my  Master  suffi- 
ciently, if  I  should  try  even  to  the  full  extent 
of  my  powers  to  perform  them.  But  when 
we  knelt  down  together,  and  he  prayed  that 
I  might  have  the  strength  required  for  the 
pursuit  of  my  warfare,  and  that  Christ  would 
ever  bless  my  efforts,  I  was  no  longer  troubled. 
I  think  he  must  be  truly  inspired  who  has 
such  marvelous  power  over  the  souls  of  his 
fellow-men." 

"  Saturday,  September  4. — An  eventful 
day.  Brother  John  returned  early  this  morn- 
ing, and  my  first  glance  at  his  face  assured 
me  that  my  conjectures  about  his  absence  had 
not  been  without  foundation.  He  was  pale, 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.      259 

even  haggard,  so  great  had  been  his  struggle 
and  the  pain  it  had  caused  him,  and  I  was 
shocked  as  I  saw  him  tremble,  as  he  rose  from 
his  seat,  and  stagger  away  to  his  room.  I 
thought  it  best  to  leave  him  to  himself  for  a 
few  hours,  that  he  might  have  uninterrupted 
rest.  But  I  became  at  last  so  anxious,  fear- 
ing he  was  sick,  that  I  ventured  to  his  room 
and  knocked.  As  I  received  no  answer,  I 
raised  the  latch  and  entered.  He  was  lying 
with  his  face  turned  from  me,  and  I  had  to 
approach  him  closely  to  see  if  he  was  sleep- 
ing. I  stood  by  his  side  a  moment  watching 
his  peaceful  slumber,  his  breathing  as  soft  and 
regular  as  a  tired  child's,  when  he  became 
restive  beneath  my  gaze  and  awoke  before  I 
could  withdraw.  He  sprang  up  suddenly  and 
threw  his  arms  about  my  neck,  weeping  bit- 
terly. What  could  I  do  but  sit  down  by  his 
side  and  mingle  my  tears  with  his?  for  I  knew 
his  thoughts ;  I  knew  how  great  his  struggle, 
his  agony,  had  been. 

"At  last  he  brushed  his  hand  across  his 
eyes  and  hastily  arose.  Then  he  told  me  how 
he  had  passed  the  days  of  his  absence  and 


i6o        MASTER   HAT  HORNETS  FAMILY. 

what  had  been  the  result  of  his  trial ;  and  as 
he  told  me  that  he  too  felt  it  his  duty  to  be 
baptized  according  to  the  command  and  after 
the  example  of  Christ,  we  wept  again  together 
in  mutual  sympathy. 

-''  Ah,  how  bitterly  will  our  dear  father  rue 
the  day  when  he  gave  his  consent  to  our 
coming  hither !  But  our  Father  in  heaven 
has  had  us  in  his  keeping,  and  has  ruled  each 
day's  events  for  eternal  good. 

"John  has  decided  that  we  are  to  return 
home  immediately.  He  is  impatient  now,  as 
I  am  also,  to  obey  our  Lord's  command ;  still, 
he  is  unwilling  to  be  baptized  while  here, 
thinking  rightly  that,  as  our  lot  is  cast  in  our 
own  colony,  our  influence  there  will  be  in- 
creased if  we  take  the  first  great  step  before 
the  eyes  of  those  in  whose  midst  we  are  to 
walk.  Therefore  we  are  to  leave  here  as  soon 
as  John  can  settle  some  business  matters  of 
importance,  and  already  I  am  in  a  state  of 
anxiety  at  the  prospect  of  so  soon  meeting  our 
dear  ones.  But  how  very  different  the  cir- 
cumstances from  those  under  which  we  took 
our  departure  I 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       261 

"After  John  left  me  this  morning  I  re 
mained  a  few  moments  in  his  room,  looking 
out  upon  the  beautiful  prospect,  and  almost 
regretting  that  we  must  leave  a  scene  of  such 
pure  delight  so  soon  for  the  turbulent  and 
even  dangerous  world  before  us.  As  I  sat  at 
the  open  window,  I  heard  voices  conversing 
together  outside,  and  looking  down  beneath 
the  window,  I  saw  that  Mr.  Williams,  who 
was  leaning  upon  his  axe  at  the  side  of  his 
wood  pile,  and  Paul  were  the  speakers.  I 
paid  no  attention  for  some  time  to  what  they 
were  saying,  until  they  were  about  parting, 
when  Paul  dropped  a  few  words  that  imme- 
diately caught  my  notice. 

"  *  It  is  the  wisest  plan,'  he  said.  *  I  would 
have  preferred  to  labor  here,  where  I  could 
have  the  benefit  of  your  experience  to  aid 
me ;  but  as  you  say,  there  is  no  one  there ; 
here  you  will  always  be  ;  and  therefore  it  is 
evident  I  am  most  needed  in  Massachusetts.' 

"  '  The  work  will  be  harder  there ;  and  more 
danger,  not  only  from  the  authorities  but  also 
from  the  Indians,  will  undoubtedly  surround 
you.  But  you  will  have  the  arm  of  the  Lord, 


262         MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY. 

my  dear  young  friend.  He  will  uphold  thee 
in  the  days  of  adversity,  and  in  every  strait 
he  will  compass  thee  about.' 

"  This  was  all,  for  Paul  turned  away  imme- 
diately and  went  out  into  the  street,  while  Mr. 
Williams  began  his  work  again,  and  the  blows 
of  the  axe  seemed  to  me  sharper,  stronger 
than  before,  as  if  a  weighty  matter  had  been 
determined.  But  I  had  heard  enough  to  show 
me  that  another  great  plan  had  been  matured, 
and  that,  if  John  and  I  were  to  leave  our 
friends  here  for  enmity  at  home,  we  should  at 
least  have  one  staunch  helper  in  all  our  trials. 
I  felt  deeply  thankful  that  God  had  so  merci- 
fully disposed  events  that  we  were  not  to  be 
wholly  without  friends,  if  rejected  by  those 
who  are  so  dear  to  our  hearts. 

"  So  to-day  I  have  had  enough  to  occupy 
my  thoughts ;  first,  John  and  his  great 
change,  by  which  I  am  not  left  wholly  alone 
to  meet  the  troubles  that  are  yet  to  come  upon 
me  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake;  then,  our  decision 
to  return  home  immediately,  involving  much 
labor  on  my  part  in  preparing  for  the  journey, 
and  many  misgivings  and  forebodings  as  to 


MASTER   HATHORNB'S   FAMILY.        263 

the  unhappiness  our  sudden  return  will  bring 
to  our  home ;  and,  lastly,  the  joyful  news  that 
Paul  is  to  labor  in  our  colony,  arriving  there 
soon  after  ourselves,  if,  indeed,  he  does  not 
accompany  us. 

4 «  And  this  last  item  suggests  to  me  again 
the  subject  of  which  I  have  already  written. 
Paul  will  now  be  so  near  us  that  he  will 
probably  be  able  to  see  Grace  occasionally, 
though  I  have  no  hope,  alas  !  that  father  will 
revoke  his  decision  and  allow  him  to  become 
again  a  visitor  of  our  dwelling.  But  there 
will  of  course  be  times  when  he  will  see  our 
little  Grace  ;  he  will  not  probably  make  known 
his  love  to  her  for  many  a  day  yet,  so  young 
she  is,  yet  I  know  that  he  will  only  be  more 
pleased  with  her  as  he  comes  to  know  her 
better,  and  my  cherished  hopes  will  yet  have 
their  fulfillment. 

"Ah,  mother,  let  me  write  now  to  you  as 
I  would  speak  were  you  with  me,  as  I  would 
plead  and  pray,  with  my  arms  about  your 
neck.  Let  me  ask  your  favor  for  Paul,  your 
love  for  him  who  is  without  a  home,  without  a 
mother.  Let  me  beseech  your  tender  influ- 


364        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

ence  to  bring  about  a  change  in  dear  father's 
heart,  that  there  may  be  peace  in  our  home, 
and  that  our  little  pet  may  be  made  happy  in 
the  lo.'a  of  so  noble  a  heart.  Paul  is  not  bad. 
He  is  a  Baptist,  but  he  is  not  wicked.  Ah, 
mother,  do  not  let  your  kind  and  charitable 
heart  be  led  away  by  the  feelings  and  argu- 
ments of  others,  but  if  you  can  still  love  and 
trust  your  children,  if  you  can  believe  that 
they  may  still  be  as  dutiful,  as  loving,  as 
Christian  as  ever  toward  their  parents,  oh  !  be 
willing  still  to  receive  to  your  heart  and  home 
one  who  is  your  children's  friend,  and  who 
would  be  made  your  own  ;  and  when  the  time 
shall  come,  as  I  know  it  will,  when  he  shall 
ask  for  our  little  Grace  to  make  for  him  a 
new  home  better  than  all  he  has  lost,  may  he 
not  be  doomed  to  disappointment  in  his  dear- 
est earthly  hopes  !  It  will  be  hard  for  my  mo- 
ther to  give  up  the  light  and  joy  of  her  house- 
hold, but  it  will  be  a  noble  sacrifice  of  love." 

"  Wednesday ',  September  8. — For  the  last 
two  days  I  have  been  much  employed  in  pre- 
parations for  our  departure,  which  John  thinks 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       265 

will  take  place  on  the  Monday  of  next  week. 
I  have  been  visiting,  with  Mary,  all  the  friends 
whom  I  have  best  known,  including  many 
poor  people  who  are  under  Mary's  charge 
and  in  whom  I  have  great  interest.  I  have 
learned  much  from  the  order  and  system 
which  Mary  uses  in  her  charitable  labors, 
and  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  apply  the  ex- 
perience I  have  acquired  here  to  my  own 
efforts  at  home.  In  the  afternoons,  too,  I 
have  ridden  with  John  and  walked  with  Paul 
and  Mary,  for  I  am  quite  strong  again ;  but  I 
think  I  shall  do  so  no  more,  for  such  pleasant 
hours  have  two  bad  effects  upon  me ;  first,  the 
more  I  enjoy,  the  harder  it  will  be  for  me  to 
relinquish  all  the  happiness  that  I  find  here ; 
and,  secondly,  pure  as  these  enjoyments  are, 
I  feel  that  they  while  away  too  many  pre- 
cious moments  that  should  be  spent  in  close 
ana  careful  preparation  for  the  trials  that  are 
so  soon  to  come  upon  me.  I  cannot  now  be 
too  thoughtful ;  I  cannot  spend  too  much  time 
in  prayer ;  for  I  shall  need  all  the  strength  I 
can  gain  from  communion  with  the  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Spirit." 

23 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

PREPARING  FOR   A   RETURN   HOME. 

j|HESE  extracts  give  but  a  small  por- 
tion of  Ruth's  diary — only  enough  to 
show  how  her  faith  and  love  to  the 
Lord  had  been  tested  and  tried,  and  how  she 
emerged  from  the  ordeal  prepared  to  obey 
to  the  letter  the  commands  of  Christ. 

It  was  with  sorrow  at  leaving  their  friends 
so  soon  that  John  and  Ruth  determined  to  cut 
their  visit  short,  but  their  duty  lay  before 
them  unperformed,  and  neither  could  rest 
until  the  great  step  had  been  taken  which 
should  declare  them  upon  the  side  of  the 
truth  of  God  as  he  had  made  it  known  to 
them.  To  say  that  Ruth  looked  forward  to 
her  baptism  with  feelings  of  unalloyed  pleas- 
ure would  be  far  from  the  truth.  Inasmuch 
as  she  followed  the  Saviour's  command,  and 

266 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        267 

felt  that  she  was  performing  that  which  would 
be  most  pleasing  in  his  sight,  she  was  truly 
happy ;  but  there  were  too  many  consequences 
involved  in  this  one  act  to  admit  of  her  joy's 
perfection.  By  it  she  expected  that  all  the 
circumstances  of  her  life  would  be  changed, 
and  that  she  would  be  subjected  to  trials  and 
sorrows  without  number.  Sometimes,  when  she 
thought  of  the  future  in  store  for  her,  she  was 
almost  ready  to  despair,  feeling  only  too  deeply 
her  weakness  and  inability  to  cope  with  strong 
opposition ;  but  she  was  ever  cheered  by  the 
remembrance  that  all  that  she  might  suffer 
would  be  for  Christ's  sake,  and  that  in  all 
hours  of  anguish,  when  weighed  down  by 
heaviness  of  heart,  the  cross  would  become 
her  support — that  cross  which  she  had  taken 
as  her  burden. 

As  for  John,  his  feelings  were  very  different. 
His  struggle  had  been  hard,  the  contest 
fierce ;  but  now  that  he  had  conquered  and 
determined  for  the  right,  he  chafed  with 
impatience  at  delay,  and  would  not  allow  any 
thought  of  personal  ill  to  enter  his  mind  for 
an  instant.  He  was  like  the  eager  warrior, 


268       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

pressing  forward  to  the  strife  with  quick  step 
and  hot  cheek,  thinking  not  of  the  danger  after 
the  first  thrill  of  excitement  has  passed  over 
him,  and  only  exulting  in  the  victory  he  an- 
ticipates. He  longed  for  the  active  work,  the 
privations  and  hardships  that  he  knew  it  would 
afford  him,  and  could  not  understand  the 
timid,  shrinking  hesitation  of  his  sister.  He 
was  very  kind  to  her,  nevertheless ;  he  never 
spoke  to  her  but  with  the  utmost  gentleness, 
and  even  when  remonstrating  with  her  and 
exhorting  her  to  be  strong  and  fear  not,  his 
voice  was  ever  mild  and  brotherly,  and  his 
loving  tenderness  had  greater  influence  upon 
her  than  any  ill-judged  harshness  of  manner 
would  have  had. 

John  was  very  busy  during  the  remainder 
of  their  stay  at  the  Plantations  in  settling  his 
business  affairs  in  such  a  manner  that  he 
could  return  to  Boston,  but  Ruth  found  many 
an  hour  which  she  could  spend  in  Mr. 
Williams'  study  in  compliance  with  his  in- 
vitations and  her  brother's  wishes,  listen- 
ing to  the  good  man's  words  of  instruction 
and  encouragement.  Mr.  Williams  knew, 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         269 

far  better  than  either  of  his  young  guests, 
how  bitterly  they  would  be  opposed,  and 
how  hard  it  would  be  for  them  to  bear 
with  patience  and  meekness  the  stripes  that 
would  be  laid  upon  them,  often  perhaps 
by  the  hands  of  those  whom  they  dearly 
loved,  and  it  would  have  been  antagonistic 
to  all  the  impulses  of  his  nature  not  to  af- 
ford them  what  help  his  experience  could 
give. 

Precious  hours  were  those  that  were  spent 
in  conversation  between  the  old  disciple  and 
the  maiden,  Ruth ;  and  often  in  after  days, 
when  overwhelmed  with  perplexity  and  care, 
she  found  the  good  man's  words  recurring  to 
her  mind,  proving  themselves  fraught  with 
golden  truth  and  wisdom,  and  great  was  the 
help  she  could  often  give  to  the  dear  ones 
suffering  with  her  by  calling  to  mind  the 
words  of  him  whose  trials  had  been  so  much 
like  their  own,  and  by  applying  to  their 
wants  the  lessons  she  had  received  from  the 
lips  of  the  proved  disciple  of  Christ. 

While  preparing  her  for  the  work  that  lay 
before  her,  discouraging  as  the  contemplation 


270       MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

of  it  might  be,  the  good  man  always  spoke 
cheerfully  and  hopefully  in  regard  to  it.  He 
had  no  fear  that  Ruth,  weak  and  helpless  as 
she  felt  herself  to  be,  would  not  prove  her- 
self strong  in  the  Lord ;  and  it  was  by  letting 
her  see  the  confidence  he  had  that  the  Lord 
would  strengthen  her  for  the  work  that  he 
infused  p.  part  of  his  own  hardy  faith  and 
vivid  hope  into  her  breast. 

It  was  the  day  before  their  departure,  which 
they  were  obliged  to  defer  till  the  middle  of 
the  week,  when  Paul  met  them  with  a  radiant 
face,  his  eyes  beaming  with  joy,  and  gave 
them  the  glad  tidings  that  his  father's  heart 
had  been  again  opened  to  him  and  he  was  no 
longer  without  a  home  and  the  love  of  a 
parent.  It  had  proved  too  much  for  Mr.  Wal- 
lingford ;  he,  too,  needed  the  genial  warmth 
of  love  shining  upon  the  cold  pathway  of  his 
life,  and  he  found  his  home  no  longer  tenable 
with  the  consciousness  that  he  for  whom  he 
had  prepared  and  perfected  it  was  banished 
from  its  doors  by  his  mandate.  He  found 
himself  no  less  lonely  than  Paul,  and  he 
could  no  longer  deny  his  heart  its  fondest 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       271 

desire,  when  he  learned  from  the  lips  of 
strangers  that  his  son  was  soon  to  depart  for 
a  long  absence.  Mr.  Wallingford  was  hasty, 
but  easily  repentant ;  passionate,  but  not  obsti- 
nate ;  and  when  once  he  made  the  resolve  to 
correct  an  error  nothing,  not  even  the  fear  of 
ridicule  or  contempt,  could  deter  him  from 
accomplishing  his  purpose.  So  now,  when 
he  saw  how  blindly  angry  he  had  been,  he 
was  not  slow  to  retrace  his  steps,  to  seek  out 
his  son,  his  only  child,  and  to  ask  his  forgive- 
ness for  his  great  sin. 

So  Paul  had  gone  back  to  his  dearly-loved 
home  and  to  him  who  still  kept  his  love  for 
him  great  and  whole  as  ever;  and  now  he 
came  to  give  the  good  tidings  to  the  friends 
who  had  mourned  with  him  upon  the  loss  of 
these  blessings. 

John's  warm  pressure  of  the  hand  and  heart- 
felt words  of  sympathy,  as  well  as  the  tears 
of  joy  that  filled  the  large,  dark  eyes  of  Ruth, 
would  well  have  assured  the  young  man  of 
the  truth  and  depth  of  their  friendship,  even 
had  he  not  known  it  fully  before ;  but  now 
their  mani.est  feeling  was  all  that  was  re- 


272        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

quired  to  fill  to  overflowing  his  heart,  and  he 
wept  like  a  little  child. 

But  there  were  too  many  things  to  occupy 
the  minds  of  the  three  friends  for  them  to 
allow  the  luxury  of  this  great  joy  to  hold 
their  thoughts  too  long,  and  it  was  not  many 
minutes  before  they  were  talking  rapidly  of 
the  events  that  were  to  transpire  in  the  next 
few  days  and  weeks.  Paul  could  not  be 
ready  for  his  journey  to  Boston  for  nearly  a 
month,  but  as  soon  as  he  should  arrive  there 
he  purposed  to  seek  them  out  wherever  they 
might  be — and  ah,  he  hoped  it  would  be  at 
the  old  home — and  unite  with  them  as  much 
as  possible  in  their  work  of  the  Master. 
There  were  many  messages  to  be  given, 
many  friends  to  be  remembered,  for  Paul  had 
not  lived  in  Cambridge  for  more  than  a  year 
without  forming  many  acquaintances,  which 
had  not  all  been  lost  to  him  when  he 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  persecuted  and 
despised ;  and  then,  after  all  that  pertained 
to  others  had  been  called  to  mind  and  said, 
there  were  still  left  the  parting  words  between 
the  friends  themselves. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        273 

The  separation  was  to  be  a  short  one,  but 
the  three  had  become  so  closely  united 
through  the  medium  of  their  mutual  struggles 
and  fears  and  hopes  that  it  was  no  light  mat- 
ter, after  all,  the  parting  for  this  one  month. 

The  reader  is  aware,  too,  of  that  which 
Ruth  and  John  did  not  know ;  therefore  he 
will  not  wonder  that  Paul  Wallingford  had 
many  a  word  to  say  at  parting,  both  of  fare- 
well to  those  who  were  to  leave  him  and  of 
greeting  and  remembrance  to  the  friends  so 
far  away.  Every  moment  of  delay  was  pre- 
cious, every  syllable  that  fell  from  the  lips  he 
watched  so  closely  was  music  to  his  ear,  and 
when  at  last  the  time  was  come  that  he  must 
go  away,  Paul  wandered  toward  his  home 
with  lingering  feet,  his  thoughts  recalling 
over  and  over  again  all  the  joy  and  the  sad- 
ness of  the  last  hours. 

And  Ruth?  She  slept  at  last,  though  only 
after  a  long,  long  watch,  wherein  the  happy 
past,  the  present,  with  its  Ruth  and  Paul  and 
— Grace,  and  the  doubtful,  troublous  future 
were  all  passed  before  her  anxious  mind. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE    PURITAN   RECEPTION   OF  JOHN   AND    RUTH. 

T  was  a  bright,  sunny  afternoon  when 
the  little  party  passed  over  the  neck 
of  land  that  connected  Boston  with 
the  main  land,  and  the  face  of  nature  was  all 
so  gay  and  smiling  that  our  young  travelers 
were  cheered  into  the  hope  that  the  little  town 
that  received  them  so  happily  would  not  cast 
upon  them  its  severe  frown  and  thus  give  the 
lie  to  the  propitious  mother  of  all. 

The  cool,  breezy  atmosphere  infused  a 
vigor  into  every  member  of  the  party,  though 
they  were  somewhat  wearied  by  their  day's 
journey,  and  even  the  horses  they  rode 
stepped  lightly  and  more  easily  beneath  their 
burdens,  while  the  tired  pack-horse  plodding 
along  in  the  rear  sniffed  gladly  the  fresh  sea- 
breeze  and  neighed  loudly  with  satisfaction. 

874 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        275 

Long  Solomon,  who  led  the  advance — for 
Ruth's  entreaties  and  Paul's  request  had  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  act  again  as  guide — halted 
suddenly  after  they  had  fairly  entered  the 
town,  and  waited  until  John  rode  up  to  him ; 
then  he  seized  his  bridle-rein  without  speak- 
ing and  led  him  a  little  apart  where  they 
could  converse  without  being  overheard. 

"  You  home  again !"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Me  know  why  you  come  so  soon. 
You  and  little  squaw  Baptist  like  Solomon. 
Solomon  keep  lookout,  you  keep  lookout, 
both  help  now  and  then.  Solomon  know 
much  about  Baptist  men  and  Boston  men,  and 
he  pray  for  little  squaw." 

"  Thank  you,  Solomon  ;  I  know  you  are  a 
good  friend  and  wish  us  well.  But  have  no 
fear  for  us !  God  will  take  care  of  us  and 
show  us  the  way  out  of  all  straits."  John 
pressed  the  Indian's  hand  as  he  spoke,  but 
seeing,  after  a  little  pause,  that  the  guide  was 
not  satisfied,  he  continued  :  "  We  are  glad  of 
your  friendship,  and  it  has  already  been  valu- 
able to  us  on  many  occasions ;  you  must  see 
me  to-morrow  and  as  often  as  you  can  while 


276        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

you  are  waiting  for  Paul ;  and  I  know  Ruth 
will  be  only  too  glad — " 

"Yes,  yes,  me  know!"  interrupted  Solo- 
mon, with  an  impatient  wave  of  the  hand. 
"  But  look  out,  watch  !  Solomon  always  ready 
for  help  you.  He  knows  the  strong  house 
and  can  help  away ;  save  you." 

"  Ah,  you  are  afraid  for  us  !"  said  John,  as 
the  Indian's  meaning  dawned  on  his  mind. 
"  You  mean  you  can  help  us  if  we  are  perse- 
cuted. Ah,  good  friend,  God  will  be  the  only 
helper  then ;  for  if  we  are  called  upon  to  suf- 
fer for  his  sake,  we  must  not  try  to  escape  the 
trial  without  his  manifest  approval.  We  may 
be  imprisoned,  but  it  will  be  God  alone  who 
can  set  us  free,  for  it  would  be  deserting  our 
cause  to  show  that  we  are  unwilling  to  suffer 
for  it.  No,  Solomon,  you  are  kind  and 
thoughtful,  but  there  must  be  nc  desertion  of 
the  right,  and  God  would  be  little  pleased  if 
we  were  to  shirk  our  duty." 

The  Indian  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment ; 
then  he  looked  up  suddenly,  as  if  all  doubt 
had  been  driven  from  his  mind,  and  said,  as 
he  looked  away  uneasily  to  where  Ruth  was 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        277 

sitting  upon  her  horse  waiting  for  John  s  ap- 
proach: "She  must  be  suffer  never!  No 
harm  be  to  little  squaw  while  Solomon  lives 
and  can  help !  Me  saw  Indian  runner  in 
woods  this  morning,  and  he  tell  how  white 
faces  be  angry  with  you  and  Paul  and  little 
squaw,  and  how  a  man  come  from  Plantation 
and  tell,  and  how  the  teacher  talk  at  other 
day  meeting,  yesterday — no !  day  'fore  then. 
They  know  all :  the  man  tell  them.  Send  for 
me  for  save  you ;  me  be  in  hut  over  river." 

So  saying,  and  waiting  for  no  word  of 
reply,  Solomon  turned  abruptly  away  and 
left  John  to  pursue  his  way  without  him. 

There  were  contending  emotions  in  the 
young  man's  breast  as  he  rejoined  his  sister 
and  their  attendants.  He  felt  sorry  that  the 
tidings  of  the  great  change  in  his  opinions 
had  reached  his  parents  from  other  lips  than 
his  own,  but  at  the  same  time  it  was  a  relief 
that  the  first  shock  of  sorrow  upon  the  loved 
ones  would  not  now  be  witnessed  by  himself 
and  Ruth,  for  he  knew  what  pain  the  sight  of 
their  sorrow  would  inflict  upon  both. 

As  they  rode  on  slowly  toward  their  home, 


278        MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILT. 

he  communicated  to  Ruth  the  tidings  he  had 
just  received  from  the  Indian,  that  she  might 
be  fully  prepared  for  anything  that  should 
occur  upon  their  arrival ;  and  Ruth,  as  well 
as  he,  was  glad  that  there  would  be  no  long 
suspense  for  them,  but  that  all  would  be 
known,  the  real  feelings  and  the  true  bearing 
of  their  parents  toward  them,  immediately 
upon  their  reaching  home.  Yet  it  was 
with  aching,  yearning  hearts  that  they  neared 
the  familiar  dwelling,  and  the  hand  of  the 
maiden  trembled  as  she  restrained  the  eager 
horse,  impatient  for  his  stall,  and  she  would 
fain  have  had  one  little  moment  to  herself  to 
weep  and  pray  ere  the  great  sorrow  that  she 
so  much  feared  should  come  upon  her.  But 
they  were  now  only  a  short  distance  from  the 
home  that  they  had  left  in  peace  and  hap- 
piness two  months  before,  and  there  must  be 
no  delay  now  that  they  were  returning  to  find 
it  disturbed  and  afflicted,  they  knew,  and 
perhaps  a  home  for  them  no  longer. 

The  streets  were  quite  still  as  they  passed 
on,  for  it  was  Saturday  and  the  hours  of  the 
sacred  day  were  near  at  hand.  They  met 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        279 

not  more  than  two  or  three  persons  who  were 
well  known  to  them.  But  it  was  plain 
enough  to  the  eyes  of  the  sad  travelers  that 
the  recognition  of  these  few  was  far  colder 
than  the  Puritan  frigidity  of  manners  would 
require  or  even  warrant,'  in  one  instance, 
where  two  stood  conversing  together  upon  the 
corner  of  the  street,  John  saw  them  shake 
their  heads  ominously  after  the  little  caval- 
cade had  passed,  and  overheard  a  few  words 
of  sympathy  expressed  for  Master  Hathorne 
in  his  great  affliction.  He  turned  his  eyes 
quickly  to  Ruth's  face,  hoping  that  she  might 
not  have  heard  the  words,  but  the  bright  tear 
glistening  on  her  pale  cheek  told  him  that  they 
had  reached  her  ear  and  sent  the  first  winged 
arrow  to  her  heart. 

It  was  but  a  little  time  before  they  turned 
from  the  street  into  the  paved  courtyard  be- 
fore the  door  of  their  home.  Anxiously  and 
with  straining  eyes  they  scanned  the  windows 
of  the  dwelling  for  the  sight  of  some  one  of 
the  dear  faces,  and  the  heart  of  Ruth  leaped 
with  joy  as  she  saw  the  door  open  quickly 
and  her  mother,  whose  keen  ear  had  caught 


280        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

the  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs  on  the  stones, 
stand  with  outstretched  arms  upon  the  thresh- 
old, waiting  to  receive  them. 

But  were  there  no  others  to  welcome  them? 
Would  not  the  father,  would  not  Grace,  little 
Grace,  and  Willie  greet  those  who  had  been 
so  long  absent?  They  knew  not;  their  mother 
was  alone. 

But  whatever  might  be  in  store  for  them,  it 
was  very  dear  to  have  their  mother's  loving 
embrace  and  her  warm  kiss  of  welcome, 
though  poor  Ruth  could  only  lay  her  head 
on  her  breast  and  weep  long  and  silently,  as 
she  thought  how  pained  and  sad  was  the 
heart  that  still  gave  her  its  undiminished 
love,  that  still  remained  unchanged  in  its 
affection,  though  all  others  should  be  em- 
bittered even  to  anger. 

It  was  hard  for  John  to  remain  unmoved 
while  he  witnessed  the  emotion  of  his  mother 
and  sister,  and  he  hurried  away  to  his  own 
chamber,  that  they  might  feel  no  restraint 
upon  their  conversation,  rightly  judging  that 
the  mother  and  daughter  could  better  inter- 
change their  feelings  and  thoughts  if  the  ear 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       281 

of  no  other,  even  though  a  son  and  brother, 
should  listen  to  their  words. 

He  stopped  a  moment  as  he  passed  his 
mother's  room  upon  the  second  floor,  for  he 
heard  a  child's  voice  within  which  he  knew 
to  be  Willie's.  As  he  entered  the  apartment 
he  hesitated  and  drew  back  an  instant ;  Grace 
v/as  there,  sitting  at  the  window,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands  and  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Don't  cry,  Grace  !"  little  Will  was  saying, 
while  he  stood  before  her  looking  up  anxious- 
ly into  her  face.  "  I  guess  sister  Ruth  will 
be  good.  I  guess  she  don't  want  to  be  cross 
and  naughty  if  she  is  a  Baptist,  and  I  shall 
let  her  kiss  me — " 

The  child  turned  and  saw  John  upon  the 
threshold ;  in  an  instant  he  was  in  the  strong 
arms  held  out  to  him  and  his  own  little  hands 
were  clasped  tightly  behind  his  brother's 
neck.  Grace  started  quickly  from  her  chair 
as  she  heard  John's  well-known  voice  speak- 
ing her  name,  but  after  a  single  hasty  step 
toward  him  she  stopped,  turned  away  again 
to  the  window,  and  sobbed  as  if  her  very 
heart  were  breaking  with  its  grief. 

24* 


282        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Poor  John !  He  read  it  all  at  a  single 
glance.  He  saw  the  love  of  the  heart  trampled 
under  foot;  the  warm  feelings  of  kindred 
shackled ;  the  spontaneous  outburst  of  affec- 
tion restrained  by  the  iron  hand  of  prejudice  ; 
and  as  he  advanced  into  the  room  and  seated 
himself  upon  the  low  couch  on  which  Willie 
slept,  he  felt  that  the  first  great  trial  had  come, 
upon  his  soul,  and  an  aching,  burning  wound 
already  convulsed  his  heart  with  an  agony 
greater,  it  seemed,  than  he  could  bear.  But 
he  calmed  himself,  and  his  voice  was  steady 
and  firm  as  he  took  Grace  by  the  hand  and 
drew  her  to  his  side. 

"  Dear  sister,  dear  little  Grace,  do  not  sob 
so  !"  he  said.  "  I  know  you  love  me  as  well 
as  ever,  and  that  you  and  mother  and  little 
Willie  will  never  thrust  us  out  of  your  hearts, 
though  you  may  be  forced  to  treat  us  coldly. 
Never  believe  that  we  can  think  ill  of  you ! 
I  know  that  even  father  still  loves  us,  though 
he  rejects  us  in  obeying  what  he  thinks  to  be 
the  call  of  duty.  Ruth  and  I  are  still  yours, 
still  will  love  and  cherish  you,  though  you 
yield  to  father's  wishes  and  commands,  how- 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILT.       283 

ever  harsh  they  may  be.  And,  little  Grace,  as 
Willie  is  bold  enough  to  do  what  he  knows 
is  right,  to  run  to  his  brother's  arms,  to  offer 
his  sweet  kiss  to  Ruth,  so  do  you  do  all  you 
can  to  make  all  happy  and  to  show  father  that 
though  he  takes  our  home  from  us,  he  can 
never  deprive  us  of  the  love  of  that  home." 

Grace  could  not  speak.  She  leaned  her 
head  on  John's  shoulder,  the  great  sobs  still 
racking  her  frail  form,  and  as  he  raised  his 
hand  to  her  cheek  and  tried  to  soothe  her  dis- 
tress, she  kissed  it  again  and  again  with  pas- 
sionate earnestness. 

And  thus  they  sat  until  the  setting  sun  cast 
his  golden  rays  into  the  room,  and  on  the 
opposite  wall  a  flood  of  light-ripples  shimmer- 
ed a  little  while  and  then  faded  quite  away. 
Grace  still  rested  at  his  side,  half  fearful  that 
she  was  disobeying  her  father's  command, 
yet  joyful  that  she  was  once  more  encircled 
by  that  strong,  brotherly  arm;  little  Willie 
nestled  close  upon  the  other  side ;  and  John, 
caressing  both,  now  talked  with  Grace  and 
now  with  the  child  of  what  had  occurred 
during  his  absence,  seeking  only  with  kindly 


284        MASTER  HATHORNE' S   FA  MILT. 

art  to  hold  their  thoughts,  for  a  little  time  at 
least,  from  the  great,  distressing  theme. 

Once  or  twice  as  they  talked,  Willie  was 
reminded  of  Ruth,  and  would  have  run  to 
her  instantly  had  not  -John  restrained  him, 
saying  that  she  would  come  to  them  soon. 
He  was  easily  diverted,  and  prattled  on  about 
some  new  toy  he  had  received  or  some  plan 
for  future  play  that  had  entered  his  little  head. 
Then  the  twilight  deepened  into  dark,  and 
still  there  was  no  sound  from  below,  and  their 
mother  and  Ruth  did  not  come. 

But  let  us  enter  another  apartment  in  the 
mansion ;  let  us  see  the  father  who  did  not 
welcome  his  children  home,  and  who  had  laid 
the  command  upon  the  others  of  his  house- 
hold that  they  should  show  by  their  outward 
demeanor  that  they  could  hold  no  intercourse 
with  heretics. 

In  a  small  room  that  adjoined  the  family- 
room  and  which  was  used  by  Mr.  Hathorne 
as  a  sort  of  office  or  study — if  the  word  may 
be  applied  to  the  private  apartment  of  a  man 
who  was  no  more  of  a  scholar  than  was 
Ezekiel  Hathorne — the  worthy  Puritan  was 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.         285 

pacing  back  and  forth  in  a  state  of  restless 
activity  that  had  become  almost  painful  to  his 
companion,  who  was  no  other  than  his  spirit- 
ual teacher,  Master  Wilson. 

Mr.  Hathorne  had  witnessed  the  arrival  of 
his  children  as  he  stood  at  the  window  be- 
hind the  closed  shutters ;  he  had  seen  his  wife 
welcome  them,  as  she  had  before  said  she 
must  do ;  and  his  own  heart  had  yearned  to 
greet  them  also,  notwithstanding  the  stern 
resolution  he  had  made  to  show  no  sign  of 
favor  or  love  for  any  one  who  could  turn 
away  from  the  Puritan  faith,  even  though 
that  person  should  be  his  own  child.  It  had 
been  hard  for  him  to  gaze  upon  Ruth's  pale,  sad 
face,  the  dear  face  he  had  not  seen  for  months, 
the  face  of  the  darling  of  his  love,  and  not  bend 
over  it  and  kiss  the  lips  that  would  have 
smiled  so  sweetly  upon  him.  His  brow 
contracted  and  the  moisture  came  to  his  eyes 
in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  command  his  feel- 
ings, and  he  was  fain  to  turn  away  and  begin 
his  nervous  walk  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  in  the 
little  room.  He  could  not  hide  his  emotion 
from  the  keen  eyes  of  the  minister,  but  the 


286        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

latter  imputed  it  only  to  the  good  man's  sor- 
row at  the  great  affliction  that  had  fallen 
upon  him. 

For  some  time  neither  of  the  two  had  spo- 
ken, for  Mr.  Hathorne  could  hardly  trust  his 
voice  and  the  other  was  a  little  discomposed 
at  witnessing  the  afflicted  father's  grief,  when 
suddenly  the  former  stopped  in  his  hasty  walk 
and  threw  himself  heavily  into  the  great 
oaken  arm-chair  with  a  deep  groan. 

"  I  have  sinned  !  I  have  sinned  I"  he  cried, 
bitterly.  "'I  have  sinned  greatly  in  that  I 
have  done  I'  Oh,  that  I  had  never  consented 
to  my  daughter's  absence  from  home  and  its 
influence ;  for  she,  at  least,  might  have  been 
saved  from  the  sleight  of  men  and  their  cun- 
ning craftiness." 

*'  It  is  not  your  sin,"  answered  Master  Wil- 
son, solemnly;  "it  is  the  sin  of  those  who 
have  poisoned  the  ear  and  corrupted  the  heart, 
not  of  the  Christian  father  who  would  have 
kept  his  children  near  the  Lord." 

"  But  I  placed  them  in  the  way  of  tempta- 
tion, and  when  they  wished  to  go  to  that  evil 
colony — would  that  it  were  swept  from  the 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        287 

face  of  the  earth  ! — I  did  not  hinder  them. 
Upon  my  conscience  rests  the  stain,  and  I 
alone  can  satisfy  God  by  repentance  and  the 
atonement  of  suffering." 

"  You  are  too  severe,  too  self-criminating, 
good  Master  Hathorne.  Truly  it  is  hard  to 
see  a  brother  in  distress,  and  I  pity  you,  but 
you  make  the  case  too  hard.  Both  of  your 
children,  of  an  age  responsible  for  itself  and 
its  deeds,  are  subject  to  our  Lord's  displeas- 
ure, but  you  are  free.  Let  not  the  agony  of 
the  father's  heart,  as  he  sees  his  children  for- 
sake the  way  of  truth  to  become  heretics,  and 
therefore  deluded  sinners,  be  increased  by 
useless  accusations  of  self." 

"My  cup  is  full  of  bitterness ;  it  runneth 
over.  This  gall  of  heresy  is  presented  to  my 
lips  by  my  own  loved  ones.  How  can  I  bear 
to  see  them  drink  of  it,  even  though  I  taste 
not  of  it  myself?" 

"They  have  sinned,  my  brother  in  Christ, 
but,  though  their  sin  be  great,  there  may  yet 
be  forgiveness  for  it.  I  cannot  exhort  you  not 
to  grieve,  for  what  could  pain  a  father's  heart 
more  than  to  see  his  offspring  departing  from 


288       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

the  truth  ?  But  remember  your  duty,  and  let 
them  be  turned  to  repentance.  God  hath 
given  thee  wisdom  to  deny  the  dictates  of  the 
heart,  to  show  them  that  in  turning  from 
God's  way  they  have  turned  also  from  their 
earthly  father's  home  and  love.  Be  strong 
and  persevere,  and  God  in  his  mercy  will  yet 
bless  thee." 

"  I  will  be  calm.  I  will  not  let  the  feelings 
of  the  father  triumph  over  the  duties  of  the 
Christian,"  Mr.  Hathorne  cried  as  he  sprang 
hastily  to  his  feet  and  recommenced  his  walk. 
"  If  my  children  are  not  saved,  it  shall  not  be 
through  their  father's  neglect.  But  do  you 
help  me,  my  guide  and  teacher.  Pray  for 
and  support  me,  and  to-morrow  tell  my  afflic- 
tion to  the  church,  and  let  the  people  pray  for 
the  removal  of  this  dreadful  blight  that  has 
come  upon  me." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  door  leading  to  the 
adjoining  room  was  thrust  a  little  open,  then 
hesitatingly  closed,  while  the  sweet  voice  of 
Ruth  was  plainly  heard  in  the  room,  saying : 

"  No,  mother,  I  cannot  stay  merely  because 
a  stranger  will  witness  our  meeting.  If  father 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       289 

will  not  come  to  me,  I  must  go  to  him,  and 
God  will  be  with  me." 

In  the  next  instant  the  door  was  flung 
back,  and  Ruth  had  thrown  her  arms  about 
her  father's  neck  and  was  weeping  upon  his 
breast.  For  a  few  moments  the  father  forgot 
the  words  he  had  been  uttering  so  lately. 
His  darling's  head  rested  once  more  on  his 
bosom,  her  dear  arms  were  around  his  neck, 
and  the  old  days  all  came  back  again  to  his 
mind  with  such  force  that  he  could  not  think 
that  they  were  gone  for  ever.  But  such  reflec- 
tions could  not  be  harbored  long,  for  the  eye 
of  Master  Wilson  was  upon  him,  and  no  show 
of  weakness  either  of  the  man  or  the  Chris- 
tian could  be  permitted  in  the  presence  of  the 
teacher  of  the  First  Church.  Mr.  Hathorne 
gently  but  firmly  disengaged  his  daughter's 
embrace  and  held  her  away  from  him  at  arm's 
length,  while  he  gazed  steadily  into  her  weep- 
ing eyes.  Thus  for  a  moment  he  stood  in 
silence,  nerving  himself  for  the  task  before 
him,  and  when  he  spoke  at  last,  it  was  with  a 
voice  of  strong  resolve  and  unbending  pur- 
pose, hard  and  cruel. 

25  T 


290        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

"Ruth  Hathorne — Ruth  no  longer  to  me, 
for  thy  beauty  hath  faded  away  with  thy  faith 
in  the  Lord's  truth — thou  hast  cast  away  thy 
father  from  thee  as  a  worthless  thing,  and 
now  thou  comest  back  to  weep  upon  his 
bosom !  There  is  no  longer  rest  for  thee 
there ;  and  the  roof  that  shelters  thy  kindred 
must  no  longer  shelter  thee,  the  God-forsaken 
heretic.  I  cannot  turn  thee  out  into  the  night. 
Remain  here  till  morning,  then  seek  another 
home  in  the  hours  of  the  day  sacred  to  him 
whom  thou  hast  already  wronged." 

The  cold  formality,  the  forced  heartlessness 
of  the  words  were  to  the  trembling  maiden 
what  the  foaming,  dashing,  cruel  waves  are 
to  the  fragile  flowers  of  the  sea.  She  had 
begun  to  hope  in  that  little  instant  that  she 
had  passed  in  his  silent  embrace,  but  now  the 
shock  was  only  the  more  severe,  and  a  weary 
blank  fell  upon  the  heart  that  had  so  yearned 
for  words  of  love  and  sympathy. 

He  released  his  iron  hold  upon  her  arm, 
and  she  sank  heavily  to  the  floor.  Her 
embrace  was  now  that  of  a  suppliant,  as 
she  clung  to  his  feet,  praying  him  for  his 


Master  Hathorne's  Family. 


Page  290. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        291 

mercy,  but  he  heeded  her  not,  and  only 
looked  away  to  the  aged  man,  who  was  the 
minister  of  God,  with  a  smile  of  conscious 
rectitude  upon  his  lips.  And  when  the  maiden 
cried  in  her  anguish :  "  Father,  be  kind  to 
me,  for  the  love  you  used  to  have  for  me, 
for  the  sake  of  Christ,  whose  servants  we 
are !"  he  turned  away  and  left  her  fainting 
upon  the  floor. 

And  then  the  aged  Wilson,  whose  heart 
was  really  tender  and  who  pitied  sincerely 
the  stricken  child,  but  who  was  led  by  a 
conscience  blinded  by  prejudice,  approached 
her  as  she  lay  still  and  motionless,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands. 

"My  daughter!"  he  said,  kindly,  and  the 
sound  of  the  strange  voice  aroused  her,  "be 
not  utterly  cast  down,  but  repent  of  this  griev- 
ous sin  and  turn  again  to  the  way  of  truth. 
There  is  yet  time  for  penitence  and  forgive- 
ness." Then  he  turned  away  to  Mr.  Ha- 
thorne  and  said  in  a  low  voice.  "My  brother, 
you  have  done  what  is  right  before  the  Lord, 
and  he  will  bless  thee.  The  church  shall 
know  thy  sorrow  and  comfort  thee." 


392       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

When  the  mother  and  daughter  were  again 
alone,  Ruth  calmed  herself  and  wiped  her 
mother's  tears,  and  prayed  her  ever  to  love 
the  banished  daughter,  who  would  always 
think  of  her,  remember  her  blessed  teach- 
ings, and  feel  that  whatever  should  come 
there  would  still  remain  one  heart  whose 
love  would  be  undiminished  and  perfect  as 
in  the  happiest  days. 

Then  with  lingering  steps  and  sad  hearts 
they  went  to  meet  the  other  dear  ones  who 
had  been  waiting  for  them  so  long,  and 
though  there  was  sorrow  in  all  their  hearts 
when  Ruth  narrated  to  them  what  had  taken 
place  in  the  study,  though  there  were  many 
tears  shed  in  thinking  that  their  little  band 
was  broken  henceforth,  they  yet  rejoiced  that 
they  could  still  love  each  other  in  adversity, 
and  could  pray  that  all  might  yet  meet  again 
in  the  better  land. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

GOODMAN   LOWE'S   HOME. 

|N  the  early  morning  of  the  Lord's 
Day,  after  the  cheerless  breakfast 
of  which  the  father  would  not  partake, 
John  Hathorne  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  a 
home  for  himself  and  Ruth.  The  streets  of 
the  little  town  were  quiet,  as  if  the  inhabitants 
still  slept.  Only  the  leaves  upon  the  trees 
rustled  with  a  subdued  murmuring ;  the  birds 
sang  blithely  in  the  clear,  cool  air ;  the  sun- 
beams flashed  upon  the  dancing  wavelets  of 
the  bay ;  all  nature  seemed  at  rest  yet 
rejoicing  and  giving  praise  to  God.  There 
was  no  discordance  in  the  outward  world,  no 
troublous  turbulence,  no  strife.  Alas  !  that  in 
the  heart  of  man,  for  whom  all  else  was  made, 
should  be  dissension  and  the  blinding  storm 
of  pride,  fanaticism, and  passion. 

26  *  293 


294        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

John  was  not  wholly  without  guide  in  his 
efforts ;  the  old  family  servant — who  could  not 
suffer  the  frail  Ruth,  whom  she  had  nursed 
as  an  infant,  to  wander  forth  from  her  father's 
roof  while  she  remained  inactive — had  directed 
John  to  a  family  living  at  the  extreme  north 
part  of  the  peninsula,  and  which  she  had 
often  served  in  times  of  sickness.  Goodman 
Lowe  was  already  known  to  John,  though  he 
was  but  little  acquainted  with  the  members  of 
his  family  from  the  circumstance  that  they 
were  all  Baptists — a  fact  that  had  hitherto 
kept  him  from  them,  as  it  now  was  the  cause 
of  bringing  them  together.  The  old  servant, 
Prudence,  was  a  strong  Puritan  in  everything 
but  the  spirit  of  intolerance  ;  and  though  she 
despised  all  forms  of  heresy,  she  would  never 
turn  away  from  the  heretic  himself  if  he  had 
any  need  of  her  sympathy  or  aid.  She  had 
been  a  good  friend  to  many  a  family  in  the 
little  town,  and  she  felt  sure  that  if  she  now 
asked  of  this  one  the  favor  of  shelter  for  her 
loved  ones,  the  request  would  not  be  denied. 

Nor  was  the  good  old  servant  mistaken  in 
the  opinion  she  had  formed.  It  was  an  easy 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       295 

matter  for  John  to  gain  admittance  beneath 
the  roof  of  so  benevolent  a  man  as  Goodman 
Lowe.  He  had  only  to  state  his  need  and 
why  his  own  home  was  closed  against  him 
to  enlist  the  heartfelt  sympathies  of  each 
member  of  the  family,  and  to  ensure  both  for 
himself  and  Ruth  the  most  cordial  welcome. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  people  wending 
their  way  to  the  meeting-house  as  he  passed 
again  to  the  familiar  dwelling  of  his  father. 
Neighbors  and  friends  he  was  forced  to  meet ; 
some  of  them  greeted  him  as  usual,  but  many 
passed  him  by  without  recognition,  and  he 
was  glad  when  he  turned  out  of  the  street 
into  the  garden  before  the  house. 

Sadly  but  swiftly  Ruth  made  the  necessary 
preparations  for  their  departure.  All  that 
they  needed  they  could  not  take  with  them, 
of  course,  on  the  Lord's  Day,  but  they  would 
be  sent  to  them  in  the  following  week.  As 
usual,  all  the  family  were  at  meeting  in  the 
accustomed  seats,  not  even  the  mother,  whose 
heart  yearned  after  her  absent  children,  being 
suffered  by  the  stern  Puritan  to  remain  at 
home. 


296        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

The  last  act  of  the  weeping  maiden  was  to 
place  the  journal  of  her  visit  upon  her  mother's 
table,  where  she  would  be  sure  to  find  it  upon 
returning ;  and  then  with  many  a  longing 
glance  into  the  silent  rooms,  whose  doors 
stood  open  upon  the  hall,  and  with  many 
a  prayer  that  God  would  bless  the  loved  ones 
left  behind,  and  lead  them  to  think  often  with 
pity  and  love  of  the  exiled  brother  and  sister, 
the  two  went  forth  into  the  deserted  streets 
and  turned  toward  their  new  abode. 

Even  as  they  passed  the  door  of  the  dear 
old  meeting-house,  which  they  might  enter  no 
more,  the  aged  pastor,  all  unknown  to  them, 
was  reading  from  a  little  slip  of  paper  the  re- 
quest of  Mr.  Hathorne  that  his  terrible  afflic- 
tion might  be  alleviated  by  the  divine  blessing, 
besought  by  the  prayers  of  his  Christian 
brethren.  And  as  the  hearts  of  the  congre- 
gation were  stirred  against  them,  the  brother 
and  sister,  the  true  sufferers,  with  the  hand  of 
the  Lord  to  uphold  them,  went  their  way  to 
their  home  with  strangers. 

Goodman  Lowe's  family  consisted  of  his 
wife  and  three  children,  one  son  and  two 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAM1LT.        297 

daughters.  John  was  assigned  a  room  in  the 
loft  with  the  son,  while  Ruth  was  given  a 
pleasant  apartment  upon  the  second  floor 
looking  out  over  the  waters  of  the  bay  toward 
Noddle's  Island.  It  was  with  joy  that  she 
learned  that  she  was  to  occupy  the  room  alone, 
for  she  knew  that  there  yet  remained  for  hei 
many  sad  hours  in  the  future,  when  she  would 
think  it  no  small  blessing  to  be  able  to  steal 
away  to  her  bedside  and  weep  and  pray  in 
solitude.  As  for  John,  it  made  less  difference 
to  him  that  he  must  have  a  companion  to 
share  his  room.  He  would  be  away  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  and  in  his  leisure 
hours  Ruth  would  be  only  too  glad  to  have 
him  find  in  her  apartment  quiet  and  rest. 

There  was  one  subject  upon  which  they 
were  doomed  to  disappointment,  and  it  was  a 
bitter  disappointment  indeed  to  Ruth.  They 
had  hoped  that  John,  as  he  would  still  remain 
in  his  father's  business — for  Mr.  Hathorne 
could  not  find  it  for  his  interest  to  allow  his 
son,  though  a  heretic,  to  withdraw  from  this 
connection  with  himself — would  have  many 
opportunities  of  hearing  from  the  dear  ones 


298        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

at  home  and  of  communicating  with  them ; 
but  upon  the  first  attempt  of  John  with  this 
end  in  view,  the  stern  Puritan  father  com- 
manded that  it  should  never  be  repeated. 
They  could  speak  together  of  business  affairs, 
but  no  further  word  must  pass  between  them, 
no  mention  of  mother  or  sister  or  brother. 
What  part  had  Baptists  with  Puritans?  or 
what  relations  existed  longer  between  the 
banished  children  and  those  of  the  home  cir- 
cle? The  hope  must  be  given  up,  and,  even 
more  than  that,  John  clearly  saw  the  impossi- 
bility of  any  duration  of  business  connection 
between  father  and  son  when  in  all  else  they 
were  estranged ;  and  he  felt  that  for  his  own 
peace,  if  for  naught  else,  he  must  soon  take 
the  steps  that  should  make  the  separation  com- 
plete, if  indeed  his  father  himself  did  not  first 
have  recourse  to  the  measure. 

The  first  week  in  their  new  home  passed 
away.  It  was  Sunday  evening  again,  and 
John  and  Ruth  sat  together  in  her  room,  look- 
ing out  over  the  waters  silvered  by  the  rays 
of  the  full  moon.  They  had  attended  for  the 
first  time  the  religious  services  of  the  little 


MASTER   HATIIORNE'S  FAMILY,         299 

band  of  Baptists  gathered  in  Charlestown, 
who  had  been  organized  into  a  church  in  the 
preceding  May.  Both  had  been  deeply  im- 
pressed by  the  solemnity  of  the  service,  held 
as  it  was  beneath  the  shelter  of  no  roof  and 
with  the  dread  uncertainty  hanging  over  the 
assembly  of  the  action  of  their  enemies,  ex- 
cited by  the  calm  persistency  of  the  little 
church  in  its  Christian  duty. 

Now  Ruth  was  speaking  of  the  duty  that 
still  remained  for  them  to  perform,  and  which 
had  been  pressed  upon  their  minds  with  re- 
newed force  by  what  they  had  seen  and  heard 
in  the  morning. 

' '  I  think  the  agony  of  Peter  must  have 
been  insufferable  when  he  had  thrice  denied 
his  Lord,"  she  said,  after  a  little  silence.  "  I 
feel  that  every  day  I  live  without  baptism  I 
in  a  manner  deny  my  Saviour,  and  the 
thought  is  often  torture  to  me." 

"But  you  are  prevented  by  circumstances 
entirely  beyond  your  control,  and  therefore 
you  are  wrong  in  feeling  thus,"  John  answer- 
ed. "We  are  both  desirous  from  our  very 
hearts  to  obey  the  Master's  command ;  and, 


300        MASTER    HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

God  be  thanked  !  he  looks  not  only  at  the  nit- 
ward  act,  but  at  the  heart  of  man." 

"  I  know  I  should  not  let  this  distress  me— 
and  indeed  it  does  not  when  I  think  calmly 
upon  it — but  we  are  so  peculiarly  placed  that 
I  cannot  always  reflect  as  deliberately  as  I 
ought.  The  eyes  of  the  whole  town  are  upon 
us  to-day,  and  I  often  feel  that  there  may  be 
many  who  are  doubting  the  strength  of  our 
resolution  and  of  our  zeal,  as  they  see  the  de- 
lay for  which  they  know  no  reason." 

"But  you  forget.  So  much  has  happened 
in  the  last  few  days  you  do  not  realize  it  is 
only  a  week  since  we  returned.  Poor  sister! 
you  have  been  lonely,  too,  and  the  hours  have 
seemed  long,  I  know.  But  do  not  be  trou- 
bled, for  the  next  Lord's  Day  will  witness  our 
baptism,  and  all  will  know  that  we  have 
indeed  chosen  Christ's  way  and  are  trying  to 
follow  in  his  footsteps.  My  only  regret  is 
that  none  of  our  family  can  be  present ;  but 
we  cannot  tell  what  may  be  God's  will.  He 
often  leads  men  to  think  deeply  and  to  act 
boldly  through  means  the  very  opposite  to 
those  we  would  have  chosen." 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        301 

"  I  do  not  fear  for  our  dear  ones,  for  I  be- 
lieve they  are  Christians,  though  of  Grace,  it 
is  true,  we  cannot  be  sure,  for  she  has  never 
spoken  of  a  change  of  heart,  nor  has  she  ever 
conversed  with  me  about  such  thoughts  and 
feelings  as  you  and  I  have  often  talked  of 
together.  But  God  will  have  them  all  in  his 
holy  keeping." 

They  sat  for  a  time  in  silence.  As  Ruth 
gazed  out  upon  the  waters  and  the  confining 
shores,  the  hills  rising  in  dark  outline  against 
the  sky,  and  then  the  sky  itself  studded  with 
countless  stars,  with  the  cold,  pale  moon  mov- 
ing on  amid  the  host  like  a  stately  queen 
surrounded  by  her  court,  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist  came  into  her  mind,  and  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice  she  repeated  the  passage  of  the 
divinely-inspired  poem:  "When  I  consider 
thy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  fingers ;  the 
moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou  hast  ordained ; 
what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him? 
and  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest  him? 
For  thou  hast  made  him  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory 
and  honor. 

26 


302       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Then  as  she  returned  again  from  the 
thought  of  the  great  goodness  of  God  in  giv- 
ing to  her  his  love  and  care  and  protection,  to 
the  remembrance  of  the  coming  event  in 
which  she  was  to  consecrate  herself  before 
the  eyes  of  men  to  the  service  of  his  only- 
begotten  Son,  the  whole  beauty  and  signifi- 
cance of  the  act  came  more  vividly  than  ever 
before  her,  and  she  said  : 

"I  think  I  have  never  realized  before  so 
fully  as  I  now  do  the  importance  of  baptism 
even  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  is  commanded 
by  Christ.  It  seems  to  bind  the  Christian  by 
so  many  obligations,  and  must  surely  keep 
him  ever  nearer  the  truth  by  its  sacred  mem- 
ories and  holy  anticipations ;  for  it  seems  to 
me  it  is  an  act  not  only  of  the  present  nor  for 
the  past  alone,  but  for  all  the  future.  It  looks 
forward  as  much  as  it  looks  backward.  It 
shows  our  death  with  Christ  and  our  rising  to 
a  new  and  endless  life ;  I  shall  hope  always 
to  remember  this  and  to  live  separated  from 
the  world,  and  in  all  things  to  be  Christ's  own 
disciple,  leaning  upon  his  wisdom  and  coun- 
sel, and  following  without  question  whither  he 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.       303 

may  lead.  Ah,  John,  how  happy  we  are  in 
the  consciousness  that  he  is  pleased  with  us, 
as  we  give  ourselves,  in  the  way  he  ordained, 
to  his  service !" 

"To  obedience,  to  close  imitation  of  his 
example  and  perfect  life,  to  submission  to  his 
will,  whether  it  seem  to  us  harsh  or  kind — 
nay,  rather  to  believe  it  always  kind,  to  think 
that  he  can  be  never  any  other  than  our  loving 
and  gracious  Lord  !" 

John  paused  as  he  spoke,  for  the  thought 
was  overwhelming  for  the  moment. 

' '  Rightly  is  baptism  placed  at  the  very 
starting-post  of  the  Christian  race,"  he  con- 
tinued, "for  by  it  we  learn  that  nothing  is 
more  important  than  to  be  ready  and  willing 
in  every  event  of  life,  from  day  to  day  and 
hour  to  hour,  to  confess  our  calling  and  our 
love  for  the  Master.  More  than  this,  the  re- 
membrance of  Christ's  death  for  us  and  our 
death  with  him  and  rising  with  him  to  a  new 
life,  a  life  that  shall  never  end,  this  will 
make  us  strong  where  we  might  otherwise 
be  weak,  unfaltering  in  our  devotion  where 
we  might  be  tempted  to  look  backward 


3°4        MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

from  the  work  to  which  we   have   put   our 
hands." 

"'Be  thou  faithful  unto  death  and  I  will 
give  thee  a  crown  of  life,'"  repeated  Ruth, 
thoughtfully.  "I  am  not  afraid,  dear  John, 
that  in  this  ordinance  God  will  not  bless  us. 
I  am  not  afraid  that  we  shall  ever  repent  the 
step  that  makes  us  wholly  his,  not  only  in  his 
sight,  but  in  the  sight  of  angels  and  of  men. 
Nor  am  I  afraid  to  take  upon  myself,  weak  as 
I  am,  the  responsibilities  which  it  imposes 
upon  me,  for  I  know  that  God  will  help  me, 
and  that  the  harder  the  labor  becomes,  the 
more  strength  I  shall  receive  from  on  high. 
Whenever  I  tremble,  as  I  sometimes  do  as  I 
think  of  the  struggles  that  may  lie  before  us, 
the  remembrance  of  Christ's  words  gives  me 
courage  and  hope ;  for  I  can  never  forget  that 
he  said :  '  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled : 
ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me  ;'  and  in- 
stead of  fearing  as  I  once  should  have  done, 
when  he  says :  '  I  will  come  again,  and  re- 
ceive you  unto  myself,  that  where  I  am,  there 
ye  may  be  also,'  I  can  only  whisper,  'Amen, 
Even  so  come,  Lord  Jesus.' " 


CHAPTER    XX. 

GRACE   HATHORNK   VISITS   RUTH. 

|OHN  could  not  long  delay  what  he 
plainly  saw  to  be  his  duty.  If  his 
father  could  not  suffer  him  to  dwell 
beneath  the  roof  that  sheltered  the  rest  of  the 
loved  ones,  was  it  right  to  labor  in  common 
with  him,  and  thus  say  to  the  world  that  all 
the  tenderest  ties  of  affection  could  be  rudely 
strained  and  snapped  for  the  sake  of  truth, 
while  the  claims  of  business  and  self-interest 
could  assert  their  supremacy?  Clearly  not. 
In  accordance  with  this  decision,  John  took 
early  occasion  to  talk  with  his  father,  and 
firmly  but  respectfully  to  decline  any  farther 
connection  with  the  business  of  which  he  had 
been  so  long  the  chief  support. 

When  this  step  had  been  taken,  both  John 

M  *  U  305 


306        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

and  Ruth  were  much  more  at  ease,  for  the 
position  in  which  they  stood  was  much  more 
clearly  defined,  not  only  to  their  own  eyes, 
but  to  the  eyes  of  others.  It  grieved  them 
both  that  they  must  be  so  completely  severed 
from  all  connection  with  those  they  loved  so 
dearly ;  but  as  the  ripe  fruit,  hung  just  above 
his  reach,  is  only  a  means  of  adding  to  the 
pangs  of  the  starving  man,  so  the  daily  occur- 
rence of  the  means  of  learning  of  their  dear 
ones  while  that  means  could  never  be  used 
was  a  torture  to  the  brother  and  sister  which 
they  were  not  sorry  to  escape. 

Besides,  Ruth  could  not  help  cherishing  the 
hope  that  John's  act  might  in  some  way  be 
the  means  of  changing  her  father's  cruel  re- 
solve. A  sad  revelation  had  been  made  to 
her  upon  that  memorable  night  when  she 
had  informed  her  parents  of  Paul's  conversion 
and  of  his  open  avowal  of  Baptist  principles. 
Since  that  time  she  had  never  been  able  to 
reverence  so  fully  her  father's  character ;  she 
was  compelled,  though  unwillingly,  to  own  to 
herself  that  there  was  weakness  where  she 
had  before  seen  only  noble  strength  and 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        307 

Christian  constancy ;  and  she  dared  to  think 
sometimes  that  perhaps  his  heart  might  yet 
be  turned,  even  though  it  should  be  by  the 
baser  means  of  personal  profit. 

But  no  such  thought  entered  the  mind  of 
John.  He  cared  less  for  his  banishment 
from  home,  for  he  was  every  day  out  in  the 
busy  world,  active  and  intent  on  occupations 
that  held  his  own  mind  and  energy.  There 
was  less  suffering  therefore  on  his  part  than 
on  that  of  the  maiden,  who  sat  alone  in  her 
chamber  with  nothing  to  withdraw  her 
thoughts  from  the  days  gone  by,  or  who  at 
most  could  enjoy  only  the  companionship  of 
comparative  strangers,  that  were  kind  indeed, 
but  could  not  give  the  full  and  satisfying  love 
which  she  needed. 

.Indeed,  so  different  was  John's  nature  from 
that  of  his  patient,  forgiving,  and  loving  sister 
that  even  if  his  father  had  recalled  them  to 
their  home,  under  the  influence  of  such  a 
worldly  motive,  the  high  spirit  of  the  young 
man  would  have  proudly  refused  the  proffered 
favor.  Ruth,  however,  needed  the  peace  and 
joys  of  home  too  much  to  reject  them  if  with- 


308        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

in  her  reach,  and  she  would  have  asked  only 
a  hint  from  her  father,  prompted  by  whatso- 
ever motive,  to  return  at  once  and  forget  in 
the  joy  of  her  heart  all  the  trouble  of  the 
past. 

But  it  was  not  so  to  be.  Day  after  day 
went  by  ;  another  week  was  drawing  near  its 
close ;  still  no  word  from  home  came  to  cheer 
them  and  bid  them  rejoice. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  Friday,  when  the 
streets  of  the  town  were  shrouded  in  the  dark 
folds  of  the  garment  of  night,  that  the  inmates 
of  Goodman  Lowe's  dwelling  were  alarmed 
by  the  loud  knock  of  authority  upon  the  outer 
door  and  the  voice  of  the  sheriff  demanding 
admission.  Both  Ruth  and  John  were  sitting 
with  the  family  in  the  lower  room  when  this 
rude  disturbance  occurred,  and  it  was  with 
trembling  hearts  that  they  looked  upon  each 
other  as  they  were  convinced  of  the  character 
of  the  visitors.  John  passed  quietly  round  to 
where  Ruth  was  sitting,  and  stood  with  one 
hand  resting  easily  upon  the  back  of  her 
chair,  as  their  host  advanced  to  open  the 
door. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.       309 

The  officers  entered  immediately,  and  press- 
ed forward  even  into  the  room  where  the 
family  were  gathered.  They  drew  back, 
however,  on  observing  the  little  group  about 
the  table,  and  the  sheriff  motioned  his  assist- 
ants to  retire.  He  then  demanded  in  a  loud 
voice  the  surrender  of  the  person  of  Thomas 
Gold,  charged  with  holding  fellowship  with  and 
aiding  in  their  convocations,  made  contrary 
to  the  statute,  the  body  of  Anabaptists  calling 
itself  a  church  established  in  Charlestown. 

Goodman  Lowe's  cheek  had  paled  as  he 
heard  the  first  words  of  the  official,  but  when 
the  name  of  the  person  sought  was  mentioned 
his  great  relief  was  as  apparent  as  his  fear 
had  been.  It  would  have  ill  accorded  with 
his  feelings,  with  the  love  he  had  conceived 
in  the  last  two  weeks  for  Ruth  and  John, 
to  have  seen  either  of  them  taken  from  the 
hospitality  of  his  roof  to  the  narrow  walls  of 
the  Boston  prison. 

"Thomas  Gold  is  not  here,"  he  said. 
"Why  do  you  seek  him  here  and  so  rudely 
interrupt  our  peace  and  quiet?  Thomas 
Gold  will  be  best  found  at  his  own  home." 


313       MASTER   HATHORNB'S  FAMILT. 

"  I  was  told  I  should  find  him  here  if  1 
made  haste.  The  law  often  requires  such 
prompt  action  of  its  servants  that  we  must 
sometimes  appear  too  hasty.  Has  not  Gold 
been  here  to-night?" 

"Goodman  Gold  was  here  an  hour  ago, 
but  I  know  nothing  further  about  him.  I 
suppose  he  is  at  his  home  on  the  island." 

The  officer  withdrew  almost  as  abruptly  as 
he  had  entered,  and  as  he  passed  through  the 
hall  to  the  door  they  heard  him  order  one  of 
his  assistants  to  get  a  boat  ready  to  cross  to 
Noddle's  Island,  where  Goodman  Gold  dwelt. 
The  little  group  in  the  cheerfully  lighted 
room  laid  aside  whatever  occupations  they 
had  been  engaged  in,  all  their  thoughts  and 
interests  centring  in  this  new  and  long-feared 
event.  They  could  only  imagine  the  scene 
at  the  quiet  home  of  Thomas  Gold,  the  terror 
and  anguish  of  the  loving  family  whose  head 
was  so  suddenly  taken  away  from  them  to 
suffer  they  knew  not  what.  The  damp  walls 
of  the  prison,  the  cruel  scourge,  the  torture  of 
the  branding  iron,  or  the  executioner's  dread 
array,  all  arose  in  an  instant  before  their 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        311 

eyes.  Such  things  had  been  before.  Why 
should  they  not  be  again?  The  law  against 
Baptists  had  long  been  in  existence,  with  no 
victim  besides  those  three  noble  men  who  had 
suffered  in  the  summer  of  1651.  Would  it 
not  now  be  the  more  greedy  after  its  long 
fast?  They  dared  not  hope  that  this  first 
step  had  been  taken  for  naught,  that  Good- 
man Gold  was  arrested  only  to  be  set  free 
again  with  no  punishment.  They  had  seen, 
alas  !  what  the  magistrates  could  do  against 
the  enemies  of  their  faith,  and  they  could  not 
expect  that  the  dreadful  heresy  of  the  Ana- 
baptists would  receive  more  favor  than  hac* 
been  shown  to  that  of  others. 

John  had  been  much  agitated  by  the  event 
that  had  occurred,  fearing  only  its  effects 
upon  his  sister,  whose  delicate  and  sensitive 
organization,  he  knew,  was  little  able  to  bear 
so  rude  a  shock.  But  he  was  surprised  be- 
yond measure  to  see  her  calm  and  composed 
as  she  would  have  been  had  an  old  friend 
called  upon  the  family,  and  to  hear  her  speak 
with  a  firm  voice  upon  the  sufferings  that  they 
might  yet  have  to  endure. 


312       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

For  a  long  time  nothing  could  be  thought 
of  save  the  sorrow  that  would  be  brought 
into  the  little  family  dwelling  upon  the  island, 
and  it  was  resolved  that  Goodman  Lowe  and 
his  wife  should  visit  them  early  in  the  morn- 
ing and  allay  their  fears  as  much  as  possible ; 
though  they  felt  that  it  would  be  almost  a 
hopeless  task.  However,  it  was  only  a  Chris- 
tian duty  they  were  to  perform,  and  Ruth 
secretly  determined  to  go  with  them. 

It  was  quite  late  when  the  little  circle 
separated  for  their  rest,  and  Ruth,  retiring  to 
her  room,  closed  the  shutters  at  once,  and 
opened  her  Bible  to  end  the  day  in  her  accus- 
tomed manner.  She  had  read  a  few  words 
when  there  was  again  a  knock  at  the  outer 
door ;  this  time  a  low,  timid  knock,  yet  loud 
enough  for  her  to  hear  it,  as  her  room  was 
directly  overhead.  She  started  involuntarily 
to  her  feet  and  advanced  to  the  window,  at 
the  same  time  so  shading  the  light  that  she 
could  look  out  into  the  darkness  of  the  night. 
For  a  few  moments  she  could  see  nothing,  but 
soon  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
feeble  light  of  the  stars,  and  she  could  just 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        313 

discern  the  forms  of  two  persons,  apparently 
women,  waiting  silently  in  the  shadow  of  the 
doorway.  At  this  instant  the  screen  fell  away 
from  her  candle  and  the  rays  of  light  streamed 
through  the  window  out  into  the  street.  One 
of  the  persons  at  the  door  stepped  quickly  out 
from  beneath  the  building  and  looked  up  at 
the  window,  and  Ruth  had  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  the  features  of  the  old  family 
servant,  Prudence.  A  minute  more  and  the 
door  was  opened,  and  Ruth  held  in  her  close 
embrace  once  more  her  "  little  Grace." 

After  the  first  warm  greeting,  Ruth  drew 
both  of  them  away  to  her  room  and  closed 
the  door.  Apparently,  no  other  person  in  the 
house  had  heard  their  knock  or  knew  of  their 
presence,  and  when  Ruth  would  have  called 
John,  Grace  stopped  her  hurriedly  and  begged 
her  to  disturb  no  one,  not  even  her  brother, 
for  she  felt  that  she  must  be  alone  with  her, 
to  make  known  without  reserve  the  purpose 
of  her  visit. 

Ruth  was,  of  course,  much  surprised  that 
her  sister  should  come  to  her,  and  most  of  all 
at  so  late  an  hour  of  the  night.  Both  Pru- 


3H        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

dence  and  Grace  wore  cloaks  that  nearly 
enveloped  the  whole  form,  and  their  close 
hoods  shielded  their  faces  from  the  gaze  of 
any  one  whom  they  might  chance  to  meet. 
This  was  necessary,  for  Grace  did  not  wish  it 
known,  even  by  those  at  home,  that  she  had 
considered  any  duty  of  greater  obligation  than 
obedience  to  her  father's  command. 

The  two  sisters  sat  down  together  upon  a 
low  seat,  a  sort  of  bench  that  extended  along 
one  side  of  the  room,  and  Grace  began  at 
once,  and  as  she  spoke  her  blue  eyes  glisten- 
ed and  her  cheeks  flushed  with  eagerness. 
Ruth  did  not  interrupt  her  until  she  paused  a 
little  and  looked  up  with  tearful  eyes  into  her 
face.  Without  heeding  the  presence  of  Pru- 
dence, on  whom  she  knew  she  could  rely 
for  sympathy,  Grace  began  her  story.  . 

"  You  know  that  I  have  always  tried  to  be 
good,  Ruth,"  she  said — and  the  perfect  sim- 
plicity of  her  manner  touched  her  sister's 
heart — "but  how  little  I  have  succeeded  you 
cannot  know,  for  my  outward  actions  have 
often  been  very  different  from  what  the  de- 
sires of  my  heart  would  have  prompted.  It 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       315 

is  easy  to  deceive  people  and  make  them 
think  you  are  good,  but  you  cannot  deceive 
yourself  and  God.  And  oh,  Ruth,  you  can 
never  know  how  I  have  suffered  during  the 
past  week.  I  do  not  know  why  I  have  been 
so  distressed ;  I  cannot  think  of  anything  that 
has  turned  my  thoughts  more  than  ever  be- 
fore upon  myself;  but  I  only  know  that  it  has 
been  so,  and  that  I  can  find  no  relief  from  my 
pain ;  for  it  is  pain,  more  piercing  and  terrible 
than  any  bodily  suffering  could  be.  I  have 
talked  with  mother,  and  she  has  helped  me 
somewhat;  but  oh,  Ruth,  nothing  will  take 
away  this  aching  in  my  heart,  this  yearning 
for  something  that  I  do  not  possess.  Mother 
says  it  is  a  feeling  that  almost  every  one  has 
at  some  time  in  life,  and  that  it  will  pass  off 
after  a  little  while ;  that  I  should  not  worry 
over  my  sins,  for  Christ  died  to  save  me,  and 
I  am  baptized  in  his  name ;  that  I  am  one  of 
God's  children  and  that  he  will  lead  me  in  the 
way  he  wishes  me  to  go.  But  all  this  does 
not  satisfy  me.  The  feeling  still  remains 
that  I  need  something  more  to  make  me  what 
I  so  desire  to  be,  and  to  give  me  peace  of 


3*6        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

mind.  I  am  sinful  and  I  am  sorry  for  my 
sin.  But  what  to  do  I  know  not.  Dear 
Ruth " — and  she  put  her  arm  around  her 
sister's  neck — "you  can  help  me,  for  I  re- 
in smber  how  you  helped  Paul  Wallingford. 
You  can  surely  do  for  your  sister  what  you 
did  for  him.  The  Bible  says  that  every  one 
must  be  born  again  before  he  can  see  the 
kingdom  of  God.  It  is  this  that  I  want.  I 
know  it !  I  feel  it  I  But  how  can  I  be  born 
again  ?  What  is  this  new  birth — the  birth  that 
alone  can  give  me  peace?  Where  shall  I 
find  the  answer  unless  you  give  it  to  me, 
unless  you  tell  me  what  it  is  to  be  born  of 
water  and  of  the  Spirit?" 

There  fell  a  little  silence  as  the  troubled 
girl,  as  yet  hardly  more  than  a  mere  child, 
waited  for  her  sister  to  reply. 

"Dear  little  Grace,"  Ruth  said,  caressing 
fondly  the  bright  locks  resting  upon  her 
bosom,  "you  ask  me  a  question  that  I  can- 
not answer,  for  the  Scriptures  say  :  '  The  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the 
sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it 
cometh  and  whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every  one 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       317 

that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.'  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  one  may  be  born  again,  but  I  can  tell 
you  what  the  Lord  Jesus  would  have  you  to 
do  and  what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Oh,  tell  me  that,  tell  me  that!"  cried  the 
weeping  Grace.  "  It  is  all  in  vain  that  I  try 
to  be  good  of  myself;  the  same  old  wicked 
heart  cries  out  against  me,  and  I  cannot  deny 
its  reproaches." 

"You  will  never  find  the  power  to  deny 
them  while  you  are  relying  on  yourself. 
The  same  Christ  who  said  we  must  be  born 
again  has  told  us  what  the  sinner  is  to  do.  You 
have  read  often  yourself  how  undone  they 
are  in  themselves ;  how  he  bids  them  come 
to  him  ;  how  he  died  for  sinners  :  how  by  his 
sacrifice  all  are  saved  who  believe  on  him. 
Are  you  not  content  to  believe  on  Jesus,  to 
trust  his  promise  that  your  sins  though  as 
scarlet  shall  be  white  as  wool  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  have  tried  to  think  that,  but  after  all 
that  is  not  being  born  again.*' 

"  You  have  tried  to  think  it,  Grace,  but 
you  have  not  thought  it ;  you  have  not  be- 
lieved it ;  you  have  not  made  that  great  truth 
27* 


318         MASTER  HATHOKNE'S  FA  MILT. 

a  part  of  your  being,  of  your  very  soul  !  '•Be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  thott 
shalt  be  saved, *  was  not  spoken  in  vain.  Do 
this,  and  the  new  birth  is  accomplished,  the 
heart  is  changed — how  or  why  we  may  not  be 
able  to  explain,  but  we  know  that  it  is  so. 
Dear  little  Grace,  this  is  all  I  can  do  for  you. 
I  can  show  you  Jesus ;  the  rest  must  all  lie 
between  him  and  you.  He  has  finished  the 
work,  he  is  able  to  save ;  he  is  ready  and 
holds  his  hands  to  you,  and  bids  you  come. 
It  is  your  part  to  go  to  him  if  you  would  re- 
ceive the  blessing." 

Poor  Grace  was  deeply  affected.  Her  slight 
frame  was  shaken  by  the  violence  of  her  sobs, 
and  her  breath  came  heavily  from  her  lips. 
There  was  a  silence  in  the  room,  and  the 
younger  maiden  clung  to  her  sister  as  if  de- 
spairing. What  more  could  Ruth  do  for  the 
dear  one  at  her  side?  She  felt  her  own  in- 
ability to  help  her  ;  she  knew,  as  she  had  said, 
that  human  power  could  only  direct  to  Christ, 
and  that  he  must  do  the  rest.  Then  there 
came  to  her  mind  that  blessed  saying  which 
had  so  often  proved  itself  more  precious  than 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAM1L1 .         319 

even  her  faith  had  dared  to  hope:  "Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest,"  And  again  : 
"And  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name 
that  will  I  do,  that  the  Father  may  be  glorified 
in  the  Son.  If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  my 
name,  I  will  do  it." 

The  two  sisters  knelt  down  while  the  elder 
prayed.  The  simple,  heartfelt  words  sank 
deep  into  the  soul  of  the  distressed  girl  and 
bore  away  to  heaven  the  very  anguish  of  hei 
grief,  the  bitterness  of  her  longing ;  and  as 
the  Son  of  God  bowed  his  head  to  listen  to 
the  maidens'  prayer,  the  trembling,  fearing 
little  Grace  saw  the  cross  of  Calvary,  and 
hanging  there  the  Crucified — the  Crucified 
for  her — and  there  was  joy  in  heaven  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels  of  God ;  and  the  sweet 
voice  of  Grace,  after  the  words  of  her  sister's 
prayer  were  ended,  no  longer  trembling  from 
fear  and  sorrow,  but  from  triumphant  joy,  gave 
thanks  to  the  almighty  One  who  had  re- 
ceived her  for  his  own,  who  had  at  last  led 
her  out  of  darkness  into  his  marvelous  light. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   ARREST. 

j]HE  two  sisters  sat  long  together,  talk- 
ing far  into  the  night,  for  there  was 
much  to  be  said  by  each  relative  to 
their  past  and  future  course,  and  there  were 
many  words  of  hope  and  encouragement,  of 
warning  and  exhortation,  that  came  to  the 
lips  of  each  of  the  loving  girls,  for  each  feared 
for  the  other  and  thought  with  trembling  heart 
on  all  the  dangers  that  they  saw  so  near  at 
hand. 

Ruth  felt  obliged  to  tell  Grace  of  the  alarm- 
ing event  that  had  occurred  that  evening,  for 
she  felt  sure  that  John  and  herself  would  not 
escape  the  notice  of  the  authorities  now  thai 
they  were  aroused  once  more  to  the  execution 
of  the  law  that  had  so  long  lain  dormant 

320 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        321 

She  knew  that  the  attention  of  the  magistrates 
would  be  fastened  upon  themselves,  that  their 
baptism  would  inevitably  bring  upon  them  the 
strong  and  cruel  grasp  of  the  law. 

It  was  necessary,  then,  that  Grace  should 
know  their  exact  position.  Ruth  was  anxious 
that  she  should  see  that  they  suffered  now 
because  they  were  following  their  Lord,  and 
that  the  importance  of  following  him  closely 
might  be  impressed  vividly  upon  her  mind ; 
she  also  desired  to  guard  against  the  eager- 
ness for  action  which  possesses  every  heart 
into  which  has  entered  the  redeeming  love  of 
God.  Ruth  feared  lest  her  young  sister 
might  be  led  by  ideas  of  duty  too  hastily 
formed  to  pursue  a  course  that  would  bring 
trial  upon  her  which  she  would  fail  under  and 
finally  shrink  from,  if  she  had  not  entered 
upon  it  with  an  enlightened  mind  and  with 
full  purpose  of  heart.  She  would  not  see  her 
little  Grace  put  her  hand  to  the  work  of  God 
and  then  look  back.  What  she  had  to  say 
therefore  was  calculated  to  reveal  to  the  new 
disciple  not  only  the  pleasures  of  God's  service, 
but  its  toils  and  dangers. 
V 


322        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

Grace  learned  with  sorrow  of  this  ne\\ 
action  on  the  part  of  the  magistrates ;  she 
had  not  expected  that  the  path  which  John 
and  Ruth  had  chosen  would  be  a  smooth  one, 
but  she  had  little  thought  that  they  might  be 
called  to  suffer  so  soon  the  terrible  fate  of 
those  whom  she  had  seen  persecuted  so  bit- 
terly and  unrelentingly. 

This  conversation  opened  the  way  for  Grace 
to  ask  a  question  that  her  sister's  course  had 
naturally  suggested  to  her  mind.  She  was 
now  a  child  of  God — she  felt  it,  she  knew 
it — and  it  was  an  assurance  she  had  never 
had  before,  this  blessed  consciousness  that 
Christ  loved  her  and  had  received  her  into 
his  fold.  Now  could  it  be  that  by  her  baptism 
in  infancy  she  had  been  made  a  member  of 
the  church  of  God?  Could  it  be  that  by  a 
ceremony  performed  during  her  years  of  un- 
consciousness her  own  independent  and  re- 
sponsible position  before  God  had  been  taken 
from  her?  Was  she  thus  freed  from  personal 
obligation  to  obey  the  Lord's  command  ? 

In  answer  to  her  question,  Ruth  endeavored 
to  set  before  her  the  truth  as  she  believed  it. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       323 

She  took  the  sacred  word,  the  great  argument, 
the  never-failing  reliance  of  that  people  of  God 
whose  cause  she  had  espoused,  and  from  its 
pages  of  living  light  she  expounded  to  her 
eager  listener  the  teachings  of  the  Lord 
Christ.  She  showed  Grace  the  meaning  of 
the  ordinance ;  she  explained  fully  the  way  of 
its  performance ;  she  indicated  to  her  all  its 
symbolic  beauty. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  the  younger 
maiden  rose  at  last  to  take  her  departure 
Silently,  too,  and  with  face  pale  with  anxiety 
and  brow  furrowed  by  thought,  the  old  servant 
arose  from  the  seat  which  she  had  occupied 
in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  apartment.  The 
sisters  had  not  seen  her  fixed  attention  as 
they  conversed  together  ,•  they  had  not  mark- 
ed hei  deep  emotion  as  they  arose  from  their 
united  prayer,  joined  together  by  the  love  of 
God ;  they  had  not  noted  the  tears  that  had 
filled  her  eyes  as  the  earnest  and  tender 
words  of  Ruth  impressed  upon  the  heart 
of  little  Grace  the  truths  of  the  Scriptures ; 
and  now  that  she  prepared  in  silence  for 
her  walk,  they  thought  her  moody  brow  and 


324        MASTER   HATHORNE^S  FAMILT. 

pale  cheeks  were  only  the  signs  of  unwonted 
weariness. 

Ah,  could  they  have  looked  into  the  heart 
of  the  aged  woman,  could  they  have  seen  its 
depths  stirred  as  they  had  never  been  before, 
and  could  they  have  known  that  the  words 
spoken  that  night  had  been  blessed  not  only 
to  her  to  whom  they  had  been  addressed,  but 
also  to  the  soul  of  the  humble  serving-woman, 
they  would  have  given  the  great  God  thanks 
that  he  could  turn  weakness  into  strength 
and  cause  the  little  seed  sown  with  not  a 
thought  of  the  harvest  to  bring  forth  abundant 
fruit. 

With  hushed  footsteps  the  three  passed 
through  the  hall  and  down  the  dark  staircase 
to  the  door.  A  few  parting  and  whispered 
words  of  caution  and  encouragement  were 
interchanged,  and  Prudence  and  Grace  were 
about  to  step  out  into  the  street  when  Ruth 
hastily  motioned  them  back  and  with  a  star- 
tled, impulsive  motion  closed  the  door  again. 
Instantly  upon  the  opposite  wall  of  the 
long  hall  there  flickered  a  bright  red  glare, 
diamond  shaped  and  double,  as  if  two  bril- 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.       325 

liant,  self-luminous  gems  were  set  in  the  oaken 
boards.  At  the  same  instant  voices  in  the 
street  were  heard,  and  they  turned  to  look 
from  the  little  openings  in  the  door  through 
which  streamed  the  gleaming  rays.  They 
had  but  an  instant  to  wait.  Five  men  passed 
by  at  a  rapid  pace,  two  of  them  bearing 
torches,  two  of  them  armed,  and  one  walk- 
ing in  the  midst,  his  head  bowed  upon  his 
breast  and  his  hands  fettered. 

It  was  only  a  few  seconds  that  they  were  in 
sight,  but  it  was  long  enough  for  Ruth  to 
recognize  by  the  fitful  glare  the  face  of  the 
prisoner.  A  cold  shudder  passed  through 
her  fiame  as  she  saw  Thomas  Gold,  their 
visitor  in  the  early  evening,  who  had  been 
sought  beneath  that  very  roof  by  the  officers 
of  the  law,  passing  on  his  way  to  the  prison. 

When  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  on  the 
hard-trodden  earth  had  died  away,  Ruth 
turned  again  and  looked  upon  the  pale  face 
of  little  Grace.  Was  any  word  from  her  lips 
needed  to  enforce  the  lesson  taught  by  the 
melancholy  spectacle?  She  saw  in  the  medi- 
tative blue  eyes,  in  the  quivering  lip,  in  the 

28 


3 26       MASTER   HATHORNE*S  FAMILY. 

blanched  cheek,  that  her  sister,  hardly  more 
than  child  as  she  was,  understood  all,  and 
without  speaking,  with  only  one  more  hurried 
but  fervent  embrace,  she  opened  the  door  and 
they  passed  out  into  the  night. 

The  gray  streaks  of  dawn  came  up  in  the 
eastern  sky  and  kissed  the  brow  of  the  sleep- 
ing Ruth ;  and  as  the  bright  red  beams  of  the 
rising  sun  shone  in  at  the  window  and  cast 
their  glow  upon  the  closed  curtains  of  her 
eyes,  she  saw  again  in  her  dreams  the  bright 
reflection  on  the  wall,  the  passing  torches,  the 
wearied,  hurrying  men,  and  in  the  midst  the 
fettered  hands,  the  bowed  head,  the  faltering 
steps  of  Goodman  Gold.  And  then,  what 
more  !  At  the  prison  door  no  longer  stood 
the  prisoner  she  had  seen.  Now  it  was  a 
woman — a  woman  thrust  into  the  narrow 
cell;  a  woman  kneeling  on  the  bare  floor, 
with  hands  upraised  to  heaven ;  a  woman 
weeping  in  solitude,  awaiting  her  condemna- 
tion. As  if  with  another's  eyes  she  saw  her- 
self! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

BAPTISM  OF  JOHN  AND  RUTH. 

|HE  morning  of  the  following  Lord's 
Day  dawned  clear  and  beautiful,  the 
cool  October  air  becoming  warmer  as 
the  day  advanced,  the  landscape  wrapped  in 
the  mellow  light  of  the  glorious  Indian  sum- 
mer. To-day  John  Hathorne  and  Ruth  were 
to  unite  themselves  with  the  body  of  Baptists 
in  Charlestown. 

At  an  early  hour  they  proceeded  with  Good- 
man Lowe's  family  to  the  water's  edge  and 
took  boat  for  the  opposite  shore.  There  was 
no  word  spoken  by  any  of  the  little  party  as 
they  crossed  over.  All  were  intent  upon  their 
o\\  n  reflections,  and  there  was  needed  no  utter- 
ance to  signify  that  there  dwelt  in  each  breast 
sympathetic  thoughts.  Ruth  sat  in  the  stern 

827 


328       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

of  the  boat,  and  leaning  over  the  gunwale, 
played  absently  with  the  sparkling  wavelets 
that  danced  gleefully  about  her  little  hand. 
It  was  a  tender,  solemn  joy  that  filled  her 
heart  as  she  thought  of  the  beautiful  river 
that  sparkled  beneath  the  rays  of  the  same 
sun  more  than  sixteen  hundred  years  before, 
and  of  the  holy  One  who  went  down  into  its 
liquid  wave,  symbolizing  the  death  he  should 
die.  She  seemed  to  see  the  flowing  stream, 
the  green  and  wooded  banks,  the  assembled 
multitudes,  the  preacher  clothed  with  the  rai- 
ment of  camel's  hair,  and  him,  the  Son  of 
God.  And  as  she  gazed  upon  his  face,  as 
she  saw  the  glance  of  the  eyes  so  full  of  love 
for  all  mankind  resting  upon  her,  as  she  heard 
his  sacred  words,  "Suffer  it  to  be  so  now," 
and  witnessed  his  lowly  submission  to  the 
hand  of  man,  she  turned  her  grateful  gaze  to 
heaven  and  gave  God  praise  for  his  greatest 
blessing  to  the  world. 

The  keel  of  the  boat  grated  upon  the  sands, 
and  they  proceeded  to  disembark.  The  meet- 
ing was  to  be  held  in  the  open  air,  as  were 
most  of  the  meetings,  unless  the  state  of  the 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.        329 

weather  prohibited,  and  a  beautiful  spot  it  was 
which  they  used  for  their  temple — a  gentle 
slope  rising  from  the  very  brink  of  the  water, 
dotted  here  and  there  with  trees  and  rocks, 
and  spread  with  a  soft  carpet  of  green  turf. 
A  large  boulder  near  the  shore  formed  a  sort 
of  natural  pulpit  from  which  the  preacher  de- 
clared the  truths  of  God  to  the  congregation 
on  the  rising  slope. 

Goodman  Lowe's  family  were  the  first  to 
arrive  upon  the  ground,  for  they  had  made  an 
early  start  for  the  sake  of  John  and  Ruth, 
who  were  now  preparing  for  the  ordinance 
in  a  neighboring  dwelling.  Gradually  the 
people  began  to  assemble  and  dispose  them- 
selves in  little  groups  over  the  picturesque 
hillside.  A  deep  shadow  rested  upon  the 
faces  of  the  older  portion  of  the  congregation. 
The  events  of  the  two  preceding  days  had 
created  a  profound  feeling  of  sadness  and 
care  in  the  hearts  of  all  Baptists.  Two  of 
their  number  had  been  seized  by  the  magis- 
trates and  cast  into  prison,  and  there  were 
rumors  of  the  intention  of  the  government 
to  proceed  farther.  In  plain  view  from  their 

28* 


33°        MASTER   HATHORNE'S   FAMILT. 

place  of  meeting  lay  the  dwelling  of  Thomas 
Gold  upon  the  green  shore  of  Noddle's  Island, 
and  they  could  not  look  upon  that  roof,  the 
house  into  which  so  much  sorrow  and  misery 
had  been  brought,  without  feeling  more  than 
a  deep  sympathy  for  the  stricken  family. 
They  could  not  tell  where  the  newly- 
awakened  energies  of  the  law  would  stop ; 
they  knew  that  they  themselves  were  liable 
to  be  apprehended  at  any  moment  and  hurried 
away  without  warning  from  their  homes. 
They  were  saddened  by  the  prospect. 

But  when  the  services  were  begun,  and  the 
solemn  hymns  arose  to  heaven,  and  the  voice 
of  the  preacher,  deep  and  reverent  and  calm, 
was  lifted  up  in  thanksgiving  and  prayer, 
gradually  the  faces  of  the  careworn  men 
became  bright  again  as  their  hearts  were 
cheered  by  divine  consolation.  Then  when 
the  sermon  followed,  from  the  text  skillfully 
chosen  to  meet  the  peculiar  wants  of  the  day, 
there  was  no  longer  any  shade  of  sorrow  left 
on  heart  or  brow,  but  the  light  of  joyful  tri- 
umph kindled  in  every  eye.  The  words 
were  as  if  spoken  anew  by  the  Lord,  as  they 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       331 

had  been  proclaimed  of  old  to  Joshua:  "Be 
strong  and  of  a  good  courage ;  for  unto  this 
people  shalt  thou  divide  for  an  inheritance  the 
land  which  I  sware  unto  their  fathers  to  give 
them.  Only  be  thou  strong  and  very  cou- 
rageous, that  thou  mayest  observe  to  do  ac- 
cording to  all  the  law  which  Moses  my  ser- 
vant commanded  thee  :  turn  not  from  it  to  the 
right  hand  or  to  the  left,  that  thou  mayest 
prosper  whithersoever  thou  goest."  It  was  a 
noble  foundation  for  a  noble  sermon,  and  the 
troubles  of  the  little  band  of  disciples  vanished 
away  like  mist  before  the  rising  sun,  as  the 
power  of  the  Spirit  pressed  home  to  every 
heart  the  words  of  divine  encouragement ;  and 
when  the  closing  words  fell  from  the  lips  of 
the  preacher,  the  hymn  that  followed  bore  on 
its  jubilant  wings  a  heartfelt  offering  of  tri- 
umphant praise  to  the  Father  of  all. 

Then  came  the  still,  calm  hour  of  baptism. 
There  was  a  short  prayer.  In  this  solemn 
hour  why  did  the  voice  that  spoke  with  God 
cause  an  involuntary  start  on  the  part  of  both 
John  and  Ruth?  Ah!  it  was  an  additional 
joy  for  them  to  know  that  he  who  had  suffered 


332       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

with  them  and  helped  them  to  a  knowledge  of 
the  truth  was  present  now  to  witness  theii 
dedication  to  Christ.  It  was  a  surprise  and  a 
happiness  to  hear  the  voice  of  Paul  Walling- 
ford  taking  a  part  in  the  solemn  services. 

Then  as  the  assembled  throng  upon  the 
shore  sang  sweetly  of  Christ's  love,  Ruth 
passed  from  their  midst  and  went  down  into 
the  water  with  the  servant  of  God.  The 
voices  of  the  singers  were  hushed,  and  the 
solemn  words  came  back  from  the  waves  to 
the  listening  disciples : 

"'Whosoever  believeth  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ  is  born  of  God.  Who  is  he  that 
overcometh  the  world  but  he  that  believeth 
that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God?  This  is  he 
that  came  by  water  and  blood,  even  Jesus 
Christ ;  not  by  water  only,  but  by  water  and 
blood.  And  it  is  the  Spirit  that  beareth  wit- 
ness, because  the  Spirit  is  truth.'" 

And  then  was  asked  the  solemn  question, 
the  answer  to  which  fell  clearly  and  distinctly 
from  the  lips  of  the  maiden  :  "  '  I  believe  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God.' " 

And  as  she  came  up  out  of  the  water,  Ruth 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        333 

was  conscious  that  God's  approving  Spirit  was 
resting  upon  her,  for  at  last  the  command  was 
fulfilled,  and  the  peace  of  a  satisfied  soul 
dwelt  within  her  breast. 

Then  John  Hathorne  followed  his  Master's 
footsteps  into  the  watery  grave ;  but  it  seemed 
to  those  who  saw  it  that  his  advance  to  the 
fulfillment  of  the  command  was  more  like 
that  of  a  conqueror  than  of  one  who  was  to 
symbolize  death.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  sunny  sky  as  if  he  saw  above  him  the 
crown  that  should  recompense  every  cross, 
and  his  face  beamed  with  conscious  joy  as 
his  voice,  firm  and  triumphant,  proclaimed 
his  faith  in  the  Redeemer. 

Was  there  yet  anything  lacking  to  complete 
their  joy?  A  flush  of  crimson  mantled  the 
cheek  of  Ruth  as  her  quick  eye  caught  sigh* 
of  two  figures  hurrying  away  among  the 
dispersing  congregation.  She  had  received 
more  than  she  had  even  dared  to  hope.  She 
knew  not  how  it  could  be,  but  she  could  not 
have  been  mistaken  in  the  form  of  little 
Grace.  No !  surely  her  sister  and  the  old 
servant  had  been  present  and  witnessed  her 


334        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

baptism,  and  it  was  with  a  heart  full  of  joy 
and  thanksgiving  that  she  prayed  God  to  give 
them  both  a  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

An  hour  afterward,  when  the  boat  that 
had  carried  Goodman  Lowe's  family  to  their 
home  again  put  off  from  the  Charlestown 
shore  with  John  and  Ruth,  an  Indian  canoe 
darted  noiselessly  out  into  its  wake  and  drew 
rapidly  near.  With  a  skillful  turn  of  the 
paddle,  Solomon  dashed  alongside  of  the 
boat,  and  Paul  leaped  lightly  over  the  gun- 
wale from  the  canoe. 

Once  more  the  hands  of  the  friends  were 
clasped;  a  murmured  ''Thank  God!"  from 
each  unlocked  the  treasures  of  their  hearts, 
and  as  the  boat  went  on  its  way  the  three 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  a  song  of  praise  to 
the  Giver  of  all  good  things. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

JOHN  AND   RUTH   CAST   INTO    PRISON. 

|PON  the  Monday  evening  after  their 
baptism,  John  and  Ruth  were  sitting 
together  upon  the  stoop  that  was 
built  out  upon  one  side  of  the  house,  and 
which  commanded  a  view  of  the  waters  of 
the  bay.  Paul  had  arrived  a  few  minutes 
before,  and  was  now  standing  at  a  little  dis- 
tance with  Goodman  Lowe,  with  whom  he 
was  talking  earnestly  of  his  unsuccessful  at- 
tempt, made  that  day,  to  gain  admission  to  the 
two  unfortunate  men  who  had  been  im- 
prisoned. Ruth  was  speaking  to  John,  with 
a  sister's  fondness,  of  little  Grace,  longing  to 
have  another  opportunity  of  conversing  with 
her  and  of  pointing  out  to  her  the  necessity 
of  studying  for  herself  the  divine  word,  that 

335 


Jjo        MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

she  might  not  blindly  follow  another's  guid- 
ance, but  proceed  in  accordance  with  her  own 
enlightened  convictions  of  the  truth. 

They  had  been  thus  conversing  for  some 
time  when,  just  as  they  were  rising  to  enter 
the  house  for  shelter  from  the  heavy  and 
chilly  dew  of  night,  a  dark  form  glided  swiftly 
around  the  corner  of  the  dwelling  and  stood 
silently  before  them.  They  were  not  a  little 
startled  at  first,  but  in  an  instant  they  recog- 
nized the  form  and  features  of  the  faithful  In- 
dian, Long  Solomon.  Paul  knew  at  once 
that  there  must  be  something  of  importance 
to  bring  the  Indian  to  them  in  such  haste,  and 
he  immediately  asked  him  whom  he  wished 
to  see. 

' '  All — every  one — somebody  !"  he  answer- 
ed in  a  hoarse  and  hurried  whisper.  "Me 
see  good  father,  Eliot,  at  Muddy  Brook,  and 
Solomon  hear  white  chiefs  talk  with  him 
about  Baptists.  Say  that  must  be  have  mercy 
no  longer,  but  punish,  put  in  prison,  whip 
more  men  and  send  them  away  to  Plantation. 
Solomon  creep  very  near  like  a  snake,  and 
hear  when  they  speak  low  and  look  round 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       337 

frightened.  Solomon  hear  governor  whisper 
about  John  Hathorne  and  ask  question  if  little 
mother  be  made  prisoner  too  or  send  away." 

"And  when  did  all  this  occur?"  asked 
Paul,  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion. 

"To-day.  Eliot  done  teaching  Indians, 
and  Solomon  creeped  round  behind  and  hear 
all." 

"Did  you  learn  anything  further?  Did 
they  make  any  plans  as  to  the  time  or  place 
of  arrest?" 

"Me  hear  them  say  that  must  be  quick; 
that  every  day  Baptists  get  strong,  and  must 
make  sample  of  Hathorne,  for  'cause  he  great 
man  and  be  seen  by  somebody.  Solomon 
tink  there  be  no  stop  from  coming  quick. 
Run,  hurry  with  Solomon  !  His  canoe  all 
rrady,  and  he  get  horses  at  Muddy  Brook  I" 

"  No,  Solomon,"  Paul  answered,  shaking 
his  head  slowly,  "  not  so  fast.  We  will  con- 
sult first  and  see  what  it  is  best  to  do,  and 
then  if  we  need  you,  you  shall  know  it. 
Meanwhile,  hold  yourself  ready  for  a  journey 
to  Providence  at  an  hour's  notice.  You  have 
done  us  a  great  service  already.  Be  watchful, 

29  W 


338        MASTER    HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

and  if  you  see  any  further  movements  against 
us,  let  us  know  at  once." 

So  saying,  Paul  turned  away  and  entered 
the  house,  whither  John  and  Ruth  had  already 
gone,  the  former  almost  forcing  the  maiden  to 
go  with  him,  as  she  would  have  stayed  to 
hear  more  and  to  acknowledge  to  the  faith- 
ful Indian  the  great  service  he  had  done 
them. 

Solomon  sped  away  into  the  darkness,  and 
made  his  way  rapidly  through  the  streets  of 
the  town  to  the  vicinity  of  the  prison,  where 
he  found  everything  perfectly  quiet.  Taking 
up  his  post,  however,  beneath  a  large  beech 
tree  that  stood  at  some  distance,  but  in  full 
view  of  the  door  of  the  building,  he  remained 
erect  in  its  shadow,  as  motionless  as  the  trunk 
itself.  Still  as  marble  and  apparently  as  life- 
less he  stood,  his  keen  eye  only  moving  oc- 
casionally from  the  building  before  him  to  the 
stars  in  the  clear,  cold  sky. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  family-room  of  the  dwell- 
ing of  Goodman  Lowe  there  were  earnest, 
suppressed  voices  engaged  in  consultation  as 
to  what  should  be  done.  John  and  Ruth  were 


MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY.        339 

both  undecided  as  to  the  course  they  ought  to 
pursue.  As  for  Paul,  he  was  determined. 
No  doubt  rested  in  his  mind,  and  he  eagerly 
urged  them  to  make  their  escape  while  there 
was  yet  time.  They  need  only  go  to  some 
retreat  in  the  forest,  to  dwell  there  for  a  few 
days  or  weeks,  perhaps,  until  the  first  violence 
of  the  storm  should  have  passed  away,  when 
they  could  return  to  their  home  and  friends, 
and  continue  to  labor  with  the  little  band  that 
needed  so  much  every  strong  heart  and  hand. 
It  was  their  duty  to  save  themselves  for  future 
usefulness,  and  not  to  deliver  themselves  at 
once  to  the  walls  of  the  prison,  from  which 
they  might  not  come  forth  for  long  and  weary 
months,  or,  if  then,  only  to  perpetual  banish- 
ment from  the  colony. 

But  for  a  long  time  the  arguments  of  Paul 
were  unavailing,  for  they  were  unwilling 
to  seem  to  run  from  danger  or  trial,  and 
the  opinion  of  their  host  was  that  they 
should  await  patiently  whatever  should  come 
upon  them.  Thomas  Gold  and  Thomas  Os- 
borne  had  not  shunned  the  trial  which  they 
had  seen  approaching  for  a  long  time,  be- 


34°        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

lieving  that  it  was  God's  will  to  make  them 
instruments  of  good  in  his  hands. 

All  agreed,  however,  in  the  opinion  that 
there  would  be  no  movement  of  the  authorities 
until  the  next  day,  and  therefore  Paul  was 
well  content  with  their  promise  that  they 
would  think  of  his  advice,  and  if  they  could 
reconcile  it  with  their  ideas  of  duty,  would 
leave  the  town  before  dawn  and  betake  them- 
selves to  the  refuge  that  Solomon  should  pro- 
vide for  them.  With  this  understanding,  Paul 
bade  them  farewell,  saying  that  he  should 
call  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning. 

But  even  as  he  was  leaving  the  room  a 
slight  noise  was  heard  at  the  outer  door ;  in- 
stantly it  was  opened  from  without,  and  the 
Indian  glided  swiftly  into  the  hall.  Paul's 
heart  sank  within  him,  for  he  knew  that 
Solomon's  sudden  reappearance  could  be 
owing  only  to  one  cause.  He  motioned  him 
to  speak  quickly.  The  Indian  needed  no 
urging.  He  had  seen  a  sudden  stir  in  the 
building  which  he  had  been  watching  im- 
mediately following  the  arrival  of  a  messen- 
ger. Creeping  then  beneath  the  window  of 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILt .       341 

the  guard-room,  the  only  lighted  window  of 
the  lower  story  of  the  building,  with  his  keen 
ear  ready  for  the  slightest  sound,  he  had  heard 
that  the  messenger  had  brought  an  order  from 
the  governor  for  the  immediate  arrest  of  the 
persons  of  John  Hathorne  and  Ruth  Ha- 
thorne,  and  the  retention  of  the  same  until 
the  pleasure  of  the  court  should  be  made 
known. 

The  Indian  urged  them  eagerly  away. 
His  canoe  lay  drawn  up  among  the  bushes 
that  crowned  a  little  beach  £t  a  short  distance 
from  the  house.  Once  there  and  afloat,  they 
would  be  perfectly  safe.  One  minute's  hesita- 
tion, and  all  might  be  lost. 

But  that  one  minute's  delay  occurred  and 
decided  the  case  for  them.  The  hurried  ap- 
proach of  feet  was  heajrd,  and  Paul  had  only 
time  to  thrust  the  Indian  into  an  adjoining 
room,  with  true  foresight  knowing  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  hope  for  the  immediate 
escape  of  his  friends  and  that  any  future 
attempt  must  be  made  with  the  aid  of  Solo- 
mon, when  the  feet  stopped  at  the  door, 
voices  were  heard  in  hasty  consultation,  and 

29* 


34 2       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

the  authoritative  knock  of  the  leader  of  the 
party  demanded  admission. 

There  was  an  instant's  hesitation  on  the 
part  of  the  little  assembly.  Then  John  him- 
self stepped  quickly  to  the  door  and  opened 
it.  There  was  no  delay  or  hesitation  on  the 
part  of  the  officers.  The  warrant  was  pro- 
duced and  read,  and  the  object  of  their  visit 
thus  formally  made  known.  John  listened 
calmly  to  the  reading,  and  turning  with  a 
smile  to  Paul,  he  said:  "Indeed,  the  poor 
Baptists  are  honored,  to  have  so  much  atten- 
tion shown  them  by  the  government." 

The  blow  had  fallen  at  last,  and  now  that 
there  was  no  longer  any  suspense  there  came 
a  deep  feeling  of  relief  to  all.  Paul  and  John 
had  greatly  feared  the  effects  so  rude  a  shock 
might  have  upon  Ruth's  extremely  sensitive 
nature.  But  she  only  turned  quietly  to  one 
of  the  daughters  of  Goodman  Lowe,  and  re- 
quested her  to  bring  her  cloak  and  hood  from 
her  room. 

It  was  all  over.  Goodman  Lowe  had  re- 
monstrated earnestly  against  the  severity  that 
would  take  a  tender  maiden  from  her  home  ID 


MASTEX  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        343 

the  darkness  of  the  night  and  commit  her  to 
all  the  discomforts  of  a  cheerless  prison. 
But  all  had  been  in  vain,  and  they  were 
gone — gone  to  what  fate  no  one  of  them 
could  tell.  Paul  Wallingford,  seated  in  sor- 
rowful silence  before  the  table,  his  head  rest- 
ing heavily  upon  his  hands,  neither  looked  up 
nor  moved  when  Goodman  Lowe  spoke  of 
the  morrow  and  of  the  efforts  he  would  make 
for  the  liberation  of  the  prisoners.  He  had 
no  interest  in  his  words,  for  he  knew  how 
fruitless  would  be  the  task  of  turning  the  will 
of  those  in  power. 

At  last  the  sad  stillness  that  had  fallen  on 
the  little  family  circle  after  the  few  vain 
words  of  cheer  from  its  head  was  broken. 
The  solemn  voice  of  the  Goodman  was  heard. 
"  Let  us  pray  !"  he  said  ;  and  they  all  kneeled 
down  and  lifted  up  their  hearts  in  prayer  to 
the  great  Father,  that  he  might  watch  over 
and  protect  their  lost  ones,  and  bless  this  af- 
fliction to  all  with  whom  it  had  to  do.  Thus 
their  hearts  were  comforted  and  their  fears 
relieved. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 
LITTLE  GRACE'S  RESOLUTION. 

HE  brother  and  sister  were  led  away 
to  their  prison.  The  building  was  a 
small  structure  situated  in  what  is 
now  Court  street — a  dismal,  gloomy  house 
with  small  windows  and  steep  roof.  The 
second  floor  was  only  one  large  room,  into 
which  prisoners  of  both  sexes  were  often 
crowded,  particularly  when  religious  perse- 
cution brought  to  the  doors  of  the  jail  more 
unfortunates  than  it  could  well  accommodate. 
The  attic  was  divided  into  several  very  small 
apartments,  each  with  a  gable  window  look- 
ing out  over  the  town. 

John  and  Ruth  were  fortunate  enough  to 
have  one  of  these  upper  rooms  assigned  to 
each  of  them,  in  opposite  ends  of  the  building, 

344 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY,       345 

so  that  they  might  not  converse  together,  but 
where  they  were  only  too  glad  to  escape  the 
contact  which  they  dreaded  with  the  mixed 
assemblage  in  the  room  below.  It  was  late 
when  they  were  thrust  into  these  rooms,  and 
they  were  left  in  darkness  until  the  morning 
should  dawn. 

When  at  last  the  day  appeared,  gilding  the 
tops  of  the  houses  and  the  broad  surface  of 
the  glittering  bay,  it  was  only  with  a  feeling 
of  greater  sadness  that  the  lonely  prisoners 
looked  from  the  little  windows  upon  the 
beauties  of  the  outer  world.  From  her  win- 
dow Ruth  could  plainly  see  the  roof  of  her 
father's  dwelling,  and  even  the  window  of  the 
upper  room  that  had  always  been  her  own. 
As  she  thought  of  the  familiar  apartment  and 
of  its  occupant,  her  well  loved  little  Grace, 
and  contrasted  her  own  situation  with  that  of 
her  sister,  the  tears  could  no  longer  be  kept 
back,  and  bowing  her  weary  head  upon  her 
hands,  she  wept  and  sobbed  her  lonely  grief 
away. 

At  last  there  was  a  movement  in  the  dwell- 
ing that  had  been  her  home ;  nay,  even  in  the 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

room  that  had  been  hers ;  and  as  she  strained 
her  eyes  to  overcome  the  distance,  the  window 
was  thrown  open  and  Grace  herself  stood  be- 
fore it  looking  out  into  the  street.  The  poor, 
imprisoned  maiden  gazed  with  unutterable 
longing  upon  the  form  so  dear  to  her.  Sud- 
denly she  started  up  from  her  seat,  and  seiz- 
ing the  white  coarse  towel  that  was  lying  on 
the  rude  washstand,  she  reached  far  out  from 
her  window  and  waved  it  up  and  down  in  the 
air.  One  brief  minute  passed,  and  she  saw 
that  she  was  observed.  Grace  started  sud- 
denly, waited  until  Ruth  repeated  the  sign, 
and  then  with  a  single  wave  of  the  hand 
turned  quickly  away  and  passed  from  the 
room. 

Ruth  had  acted  upon  impulse,  and  bitterly 
did  she  reproach  herself  for  her  thoughtless 
selfishness  as  she  reflected  that  her  hasty  act 
could  bring  no  good  to  herself,  and  could 
only  create  sorrow  for  Grace,  for  she  would 
be  unable  to  exert  herself  in  behalf  of  her 
imprisoned  sister,  and  would  at  best  only 
'have  the  aggravating  power  of  conversing 
with  her  from  window  to  window  as  they  had 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT.        347 

done  that  morning.  She  did  not  know  the 
quickness  of  thought,  the  energy  and  prompt- 
ness of  action,  of  which  little  Grace  was  ca- 
pable, and  she  little  dreamed  that  in  a  few 
short  hours  she  should  clasp  her  sister  in 
close  embrace  and  speak  with  her  once  more. 

Yet  it  was  to  be.  Grace  had  no  sooner 
recognized  her  sifter  than  she  determined  to 
go  to  her — by  what  means  was  yet  to  be  dis- 
covered— so  without  delaying  at  the  window 
longer  than  to  assure  Ruth  that  she  had 
recognized  her,  she  set  about  her  plans  im- 
mediately. But  who  could  give  her  the 
necessary  assistance?  In  her  perplexity  she 
appealed  to  Prudence,  and  it  was  speedily 
arranged  between  them  that  the  latter  should 
see  Mr.  Wilson,  and  relying  upon  his  kind- 
ness, should  ask  from  him  a  pass  to  enter  the 
prison.  The  old  servant  was  well  known  to 
the  minister,  and  readily  gained  from  him  the 
desired  favor ;  with  hurrying  feet  the  two 
pressed  on  to  the  jail,  and  were  admitted 
without  question. 

Unexpected  as  was  this  great  joy,  Ruth 
was  little  able  to  command  her  feelings  at 


348         MASTER    HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

first  so  that  they  could  converse  calmly 
For  a  moment  it  made  her  sorrow  heavier 
that  her  little  Grace  should  come  to  meet 
her  in  such  a  place ;  but  quickly  she  forgot 
her  situation  in  the  joy  she  felt  at  seeing  her 
sister  once  more  and  hearing  from  her  own 
lips  of  the  dear  ones  at  home. 

But  a  more  important  subject  than  any 
personal  consideration  was  pressing  itself 
upon  Ruth's  attention,  for  she  well  knew 
how  Grace's  thoughts  were  tending,  and  was 
filled  with  anxiety  for  her.  It  was  with 
emotion,  therefore,  that  she  asked  her  of  the 
opinions  that  had  been  forming  in  her  mind 
since  their  last  interview.  There  was  a  little 
silence  before  Grace  answered,  and  her  beauti- 
ful face  assumed  an  expression  far  more 
solemn  than  Ruth  had  ever  seen  upon  it 
before.  At  last  she  took  Ruth's  hand  that 
was  lying  in  her  lap  into  her  own,  and  said, 
thoughtfully : 

"  Dear  Ruth,  I  must  go  with  you." 
A  thrill  of  joy  flushed  Ruth's  cheek  with  a 
beautiful    rose-tinge.      Her   hopes    were   ful- 
filled, her  prayers  answered,  and  she  raised 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.       349 

her  heart  in  silent  thanksgiving  to  God.  But 
the  same  old  fear  came  again  to  her  mind — 
the  fear  that  had  haunted  her  ever  since  she 
had  last  spoken  with  her  sister.  She  dreaded 
lest  the  desire  of  following  her  own  example, 
or  the  thirst  for  notoriety  and  for  suffering  in 
the  sight  of  others,  should  have  undue  influ- 
ence in  bringing  about  such  a  decision. 

"You  are  sure," she  asked,  "that  you  have 
chosen  the  true  way?" 

"I  am  sure  it  is  the  way  that  the  Bible 
teaches.  I  have  *no  doubt  that  they  who 
follow  other  courses  may  be  true  Christians, 
but  in  one  respect  they  are  not ;  they  cannot 
be  so  Christ-like  as  are  the  Baptists.  I  believe 
that  saying  of  the  Saviour  :  '  I  am  the  way,  and 
the  truth,  and  the  life :  no  man  cometh  unto 
the  Father  but  by  me.'  But  I  also  believe 
that  he  meant  what  he  said,  '  Believe  and  be 
baptized,'  and  I  would  follow  him  in  his  own 
way  as  he  commanded  and  as  he  has  revealed 
it  to  us." 

"But  you  are  sure  of  your  fixedness  of 
purpose?     You   know    all   that   the    step   in- 
volves?    You   have  thought  over  and  care- 
so 


35°        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

fully  weighed  what  losses  you  must  sufFei 
and  what  sorrows  you  must  endure?" 

"  *  That  I  may  know  him,  and  the  power 
of  his  resurrection,  and  the  fellowship  of  his 
sufferings,  being  made  conformable  unto  his 
death ;  if  by  any  means  I  might  attain  unto 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead.'  I  think  I  am 
ready,  dear  Ruth,  if  need  be,  to  suffer  any- 
thing for  him.  Let  it  be  the  trial  of  fire,  and 
I  trust  I  shall  cheerfully  pass  through  it,  for 
the  Master  will  be  by  my  side.  That  which 
is  loss  to  me  shall  be  gain  for  Christ." 

There  was  such  calm  resolution,  such  deep 
earnestness,  such  simple  trust,  in  the  face  of 
the  youthful  speaker,  that  Ruth  pressed  her  no 
more,  but  was  content.  So  the  sisters  sat  for 
two  happy  hours,  talking  lovingly  of  their 
common  interests.  Then  Grace  took  her 
leave  and  passed  to  the  other  cell,  that  she 
might  comfort  and  cheer  her  brother's  heart, 
and  Ruth  was  again  alone. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

PLAN  FOR   ESCAPE. 

|S  Grace  left  the  prison  she  met  Paul 
waiting  at  a  little  distance,  as  if  ex- 
pecting her  coming.  He  had  learned 
in  some  way  of  her  visit  to  her  sister,  and  had 
come  out  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  her  and 
learning  something  of  Ruth  and  John.  They 
stood  a  few  moments  talking  together,  and 
then  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  Master 
Hathorne's  dwelling. 

Ruth  saw  their  meeting  from  her  window, 
and — at  last  she  had  to  confess  it — there  was 
a  little  shrinking  of  her  heart  from  what  she 
thought  would  be ;  but  in  an  instant  she  was 
herself  again,  and  she  remembered  that  it 
was  no  less  the  part  of  love  to  suffer  than  to 
enjoy.  Her  dark  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but 

351 


352       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

they  were  tears  more  of  gladness  than  of  pain, 
for  Paul  and  little  Grace  would  indeed  be 
very  happy  together;  he  would  strengthen 
and  support  her  in  all  the  trials  she  would 
yet  be  called  upon  to  endure.  And  she 
knew  that,  even  in  their  own  joy,  they  would 
not  forget  her,  the  lonely  prisoner,  for  as  they 
had  turned  to  walk  away,  Grace  had  pointed 
out  to  him  the  window  of  her  cell,  and  they 
had  both  waved  their  hands  to  her  for  a  silent 
good-bye. 

It  was  very  oppressive,  the  solitude  of  her 
cell,  after  Grace  and  Prudence  had  gone. 
The  silence  became  almost  unbearable,  and 
she  walked  the  room  back  and  forth  from 
very  weariness  of  quiet.  At  last  there  came 
the  sound  of  feet  ascending  the  stairs,  and  she 
knew  that  the  jailer's  wife  was  bringing  her 
the  meagre  noon  repast.  A  sudden  thought 
came  into  her  mind ;  she  would  be  no  longer 
so  lonely ;  she  felt  that  she  must  have  some 
means  of  occupying  her  attention  and  of 
taking  it  away  from  her  sad  solitude.  She 
resolved  if  possible  to  obtain  the  requisite 
materials,  and  pass  the  slow-going  hours  in 


MA  S  TER   II A  THORNB  'S   FA  MIL  T.         353 

writing  a  diary,  as  she  had  done  while  at 
Providence. 

Much  to  her  surprise,  she  found  her  re- 
quest for  writing  materials  readily  granted, 
and  when  the  evening  meal  was  brought  to 
her,  the  jailer's  wife  bore  also  in  a  neat  pack- 
age abundant  means  to  carry  out  her  pur- 
pose. 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear, 
and  the  sunshine  streamed  in  at  the  little 
window  and  fell  directly  upon  the  face  of  the 
sleeping  maiden.  She  awoke  with  a  smile 
on  her  lips,  for  she  had  been  dreaming  that 
she  was  free  again,  walking  in  the  little 
garden  at  home,  when  suddenly  the  bright 
sunlight  around  her  had  grown  more  intense 
and  dazzling  and  a  strange  joy  had  taken 
possession  of  her  breast,  because  all  the  worla 
had  suddenly  become  so  much  more  glorious 
than  ever  before.  She  sprang  quickly  from 
her  couch,  clothed  herself,  and  sat  down  at 
the  open  window  with  her  Bible  in  her  hand. 
The  fresh  morning  air  blew  in  from  the  sea 
with  its  salt  fragrance,  the  birds  were  singing 
blithely,  and  the  trees  rustled  in  the  breeze 

30*  X 


354        MASTER  HATHORNB'S  FAMILY. 

and  shook  from  their  boughs  great  showers 
of  richly-colored  leaves  upon  the  dewy  earth. 
Ruth  felt  that  there  was  but  one  thing  want- 
ing to  make  her  dream  come  true.  If  she 
could  step  forth  into  the  world  and  wander  on 
and  on,  free  and  light-hearted  as  the  little 
birds  that  wheeled  in  swift  circles  before  her 
window,  she  felt  that  she  should  indeed 
wonder  that  the  earth  could  be  so  beautiful. 

Then  she  read  of  the  God  that  doeth  all 
things  well,  and  as  hour  after  hour  passed  by 
she  forgot  in  her  reading  her  solitude,  the 
means  she  had  obtained  for  whiling  the  time 
away,  and  all  but  the  sacred  book,  for  the 
blessed  words  of  the  Gospel  of  John  were 
feeding  her  soul  with  the  manna  of  eternal 
life. 

She  was  surprised  when  the  jailer's  wife 
came  to  her  room  with  her  morning  meal, 
which  should  have  been  brought  to  her  more 
than  two  hours  before,  and  she  made  no  com- 
plaint of  the  negligence  that  had  kept  her 
until  so  late  an  hour  of  the  morning  without 
food. 

As  she  ate  the  plain  fare  she  sat  by  the 


MASTER  HAJHORNE'S   FAMILY.       355 

window  still,  and  looking  out  she  noticed  a 
peculiar  motion  in  the  window  of  Grace's 
room.  The  distance  did  not  allow  her  to 
make  out,  at  first,  whether  it  was  meant  as  a 
sign  to  her  or  not,  but  at  last,  by  straining  her 
eyes  and  shading  them  with  her  hand,  she 
thought  she  saw  enough  to  justify  her  in  re- 
turning the  sign.  Her  white  handkerchief 
fluttered  an  instant  on  the  breeze,  and  in- 
stantly in  the  distant  window  a  bright  red 
cloth  was  hung,  as  if  to  dry,  in  the  air. 

There  was  no  further  movement  made,  and 
Ruth  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  could  be  the 
meaning  of  the  sign.  But  soon,  as  all  still 
remained  quiet  in  the  opposite  window,  she 
ceased  to  think  of  it,  and  taking  her  writing 
materials,  began  her  labor. 

Night  has  again  drawn  its  dark  curtains 
over  the  face  of  nature,  and  Ruth  lies  sleep- 
ing sweetly  upon  the  little  couch  of  her  cell. 
Upon  the  table  by  the  window  lie  the  care- 
fully folded  sheets  of  her  journal,  the  ink  and 
pen,  and  her  precious,  only  book.  Let  us 
take  our  happy  privilege,  and  see  what  the 
maiden  has  written  that  we  may  know  the 


356       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

events   of   the   most   eventful   afternoon   and 
evening  of  her  imprisonment. 

"Again  I  begin  to  write  my  diary,  but 
under  very  different  circumstances  from  those 
in  which  I  last  wrote.  Then  there  was  no 
bird  happier  than  I,  and  surely  there  was 
no  bird  more  free  to  wing  its  way,  care- 
less and  light-hearted,  through  the  air,  than 
was  I  to  tread  the  beautiful  earth  and  enjoy 
to  the  full  all  the  bounteous  gifts  of  God. 
But  now  I  write  only  because  of  the  loss  of 
everything  else  that  can  make  life  happy ! 
Ah,  Father,  forgive  me !  I  have  sinned  in 
saying  that ;  for  though  all  things  of  this 
world  be  taken  from  me,  though  it  were  even 
worse  for  me  than  it  is,  though  I  were  sepa- 
rated for  ever  from  all  that  is  dear,  though  I 
were  forgotten  by  friends  and  loved  ones  and 
were  wholly  without  human  pity  or  love,  yet 
everything  would  not  be  lost.  The  love  of 
him  who  has  redeemed  me  with  his  blood  is 
ever,  will  ever  be,  mine.  Surely  I  will  never 
doubt  him,  for  I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
loveth  me. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        35  ? 

"As  I  remember  this  my  little  cell  is  no 
longer  sad  and  lonely.  Its  bare  walls  be- 
come fair  and  bright,  and  extend  their  narrow 
bounds  till  they  are  as  wide  as  heaven  itself. 
I  feel  no  longer  that  I  am  a  prisoner,  for 
where  Christ  is  there  can  only  be  happiness. 
No,  I  am  not  alone.  I  am  not  unhappy. 
In  my  thoughts,  my  desires,  my  hopes,  my 
prayers,  I  am  not  a  prisoner,  but  with  my 
blessed  Lord  I  am  in  spirit  free. 

"A  long  interval  has  occurred  since  I 
penned  those  last  words,  and  now  again  I  sit 
down  to  write  the  cause  of  my  interruption. 
It  is  evening,  and  I  can  see  to  write  only  with 
difficulty  by  the  miserable  light  they  have 
allowed  me,  but  I  am  anxious  to  make  a  rec- 
ord before  I  sleep  of  every  little  incident  that 
has  occurred,  that  I  may  not  suffer  any  one 
of  them  all  to  escape  my  memory.  I  shall 
prize  it  by  and  by. 

« '  I  had  been  sitting  for  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  meditating  upon  subjects  naturally  sug- 
gested by  what  I  had  written,  when  suddenly 
my  attention  was  attracted  by  something  strik- 
ing against  my  window,  and  an  instant  after- 


35S        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

ward  a  little  ball  of  paper  tied  with  a  red 
string  fell  at  my  feet.  My  first  impulse  was 
to  look  from  the  window  to  see  who  could 
have  thrown  it,  when  I  observed  the  faithful 
Indian,  Solomon,  walking  leisurely  away  at 
some  little  distance.  I  then  unrolled  the 
paper  and  read  as  follows : 

"  «  DEAR  RUTH  :  Paul  and  Solomon  and 
myself  have  made  all  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  your  escape.  I  tell  you  plainly  T 
did  not  speak  of  the  subject  when  with  you 
for  two  reasons :  first,  I  was  unwilling  to 
abuse  the  confidence  of  Mr.  Wilson,  through 
whose  means  I  came ;  and  then  I  feared  you 
would  try  to  urge  me,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  to  give  up  the  whole  plan.  But  now 
that  all  is  arranged  you  will  consent.  To- 
night at  midnight  you  will  be  ready.  Paul 
and  Solomon  will  meet  beneath  the  prison 
walls  with  ropes.  The  Indian  will  scale  the 
roof  by  the  aid  of  the  high  wall  that  joins 
the  house  at  the  other  side,  and  so  will  aid 
you.  Your  place  of  refuge  will  be  where 
you  have  seen  the  sign,  the  cloth  of  the  same 


MASTER   HATHQRNE'S  FAMILY.        359 

color  as  the  string.     Do  not  delay  for  John  ; 
he  will  follow  you. 

"  « Your  sister,  GRACE.' 

"I  was  greatly  surprised  at  this  letter  from 
little  Grace,  and,  more  than  this,  my  heart 
was  full  of  gratitude  to  her  and  Paul  for 
thinking  of  me  and  planning  for  my  happi- 
ness ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  was  sorry  they 
had  made  the  attempt,  for  I  thought  it  better 
for  many  reasons  to  wait  patiently  for  our  re- 
lease until  those  who  had  brought  us  within 
these  walls  should  see  fit  to  restore  us  to  free- 
dom. I  thought  long  over  the  note,  and  re- 
read it  many  times.  At  last  I  found  a  few 
words  on  the  other  side  of  the  paper  that  I 
had  not  noticed  before.  They  said  that  Paul 
would  pass  beneath  my  window  at  dusk  and 
receive  any  word  I  might  write  to  them ;  for 
Grace  knew  I  could  get  the  materials  for 
writing,  as  she  had  left  money  with  the  jailer's 
wife  to  supply  the  means  of  granting  any  re- 
quest John  or  I  might  make. 

"Not  only,  then,  was  the  plan  for  our 
escape  made  by  our  little  Grace,  but  the 


360       MASTER   HATHORNE'S  F AM  I  LI. 

dear,  thoughtful  girl  had  foreseen  that  the 
hours  of  our  prison-life  would  pass  drearily 
enough  without  occupation.  I  little  knew 
the  courageous  worth  of  our  sister.  She  will 
make  a  noble  woman. 

"  It  yet  lacked  full  three  hours  to  the  time 
when  Paul  would  expect  some  word  from  me 
in  answer  to  the  proposition  to  escape.  What 
should  my  answer  be?  I  could  not  tell,  for 
surely  it  was  a  hard  question  for  me  to  decide 
without  counsel ;  there  would  be  many  chances 
of  failure,  even  if  I  could  think  it  right  to  make 
the  attempt ;  and,  more  than  this,  the  place  of 
concealment  which  Grace  had  indicated  was 
in  my  father's  own  house ;  from  that  very  fact, 
of  course,  secure  from  suspicion,  yet  not  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment,  for  it  was  the  place, 
the  one  place  of  all  the  world,  from  which  I 
was  debarred  by  my  father's  solemn  com- 
mand. 

"  While  I  was  yet  absorbed  in  thought  I 
heard  the  approach  of  some  person  in  the 
passage  outside  of  my  room,  and  immedi- 
ately the  jailer  himself  stopped  at  my  door 
and  requested  me  to  go  with  him.  He  said 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       361 

that  John  wished  to  see  me,  and  that  he  had 
given  him  permission  to  talk  with  me  in  his 
own  cell  on  condition  that  the  jailer's  wife 
should  remain  with  us  during  the  interview. 
I  knew  well  that  John  wished  to  speak  with 
me  about  this  subject,  but  I  feared  from  this 
precaution  of  the  jailer  that  he  would  be  un- 
able to  do.  so.  However,  I  was  only  too  glad 
to  see  dear  John  again,  and  I  followed  with 
joy  to  his  little  room. 

"  I  was  much  affected  by  the  change  that 
has  come  upon  John  since  I  last  saw  him. 
It  is  true  it  is  not  a  long  time  that  we  have 
been  here,  but  he  looks  as  if  it  had  been  a 
year.  Pale  and  haggard,  he  stood  by  the 
door  to  receive  me,  and  as  I  fell  weeping  into 
his  arms,  he  spoke  to  me  with  a  voice  weak 
and  trembling,  as  if  it  were  that  of  a  sick 
man.  But  the  time  allotted  us  was  short  and 
our  words  had  to  be  quickly  spoken.  He  said 
he  had  not  been  well ;  that  he  had  been  deeply 
anxious  for  me  not  only  on  account  of  my 
imprisonment,  but  because  of  the  punishment 
he  feared  might  be  laid  upon  us. 

"  He  spoke  rapidly  of  his  fears  for  my  health 

31 


362        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAM1LT. 

and  of  the  firm  courage  I  should  need  to  meet 
the  events  of  the  future,  and  kneeling  down, 
we  prayed  together  for  the  Master's  blessing. 
"  When  we  arose  he  seemed  more  cheerful, 
;:nd  talked  of  the  monotony  of  our  prison-life 
and  of  the  means  he  used  to  pass  the  time  as 
profitably  as  possible.  As  he  spoke  he  show- 
ed me  a  great  number  of  pages  he  had  written 
over  with  whole  chapters  from  the  Bible,  that 
he  might  the  more  readily  fix  them  in  his 
memory.  Just  before  we  separated,  he  took 
his  pen  in  hand  mechanically,  and  with  an 
air  of  abstraction  wrote  upon  a  blank  page 
the  word  '  No '  repeatedly.  Then  placing  it 
so  that  I  could  easily  see  it,  he  spoke  again 
of  the  discomforts  of  a  prison,  but  urged  me 
not  to  repine,  but  to  await  with  all  patience 
the  slow  approach  of  our  trial.  He  hoped, 
he  said,  for  our  acquittal ;  he  hoped  the 
magistrates  would  have  become  tired  of  per- 
secutions ;  but  whatever  might  come  he  urged 
me  to  wait,  to  be  still  and  listen  for  God's 
voice  to  lead  me,  to  draw  not  back  from  the 
path  on  which  we  had  entered,  nor  refuse  to 
suffer  what  the  Lord  should  require  of  us  for 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILT         363 

his  glory.  And  so  I  went  back  to  my  cell 
with  my  doubt  driven  away  and  with  the 
wished-for  answer  given  me. 

"When  I  was  again  alone  I  immediately 
wrote  a  few  words  to  Grace  and  Paul,  pray- 
ing them  not  to  think  me  ungrateful,  but  ex- 
pressing my  determination  to  abide  the  event 
of  our  trial,  as  John,  I  knew,  would  also 
answer  them.  Then  I  sat  at  the  window 
with  my  Bible  until  Paul  approached.  He 
took  my  note  from  the  ground  without  being 
seen  by  any  one,  and  immediately  went 
away. 

**  Perhaps  an  hour  had  passed,  and  it  had 
already  become  quite  dark  when  the  noise 
of  a  pebble  upon  the  window  pane  attracted 
my  notice.  The  window  was  closed  on  ac- 
count of  the  chilly  air  of  the  evening.  I  in- 
stantly opened  it,  for  I  knew  this  to  be  a  signal 
to  attract  my  attention.  I  could  see  no  one 
in  the  darkness,  but  soon  another  little  ball  of 
paper  fell  upon  the  floor  of  the  room  and  I 
eagerly  unfolded  it.  There  were  but  few 
words : 

*' '  Perhaps  it  is  as  well.     I  have  just  dis- 


364       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

covered    that   the   trial   will    take   place   to- 
morrow.    God  help  us  all !' 

"There  was  no  signature,  but  I  knew  it 
came  from  Paul.  I  stood  by  the  window  and 
looked  out,  that  he  might  know,  if  he  was 
still  there,  that  I  thanked  him  for  his  thought- 
ful care. 

"  Now  that  the  decision  is  made  I  am  glad 
that  the  matter  is  thus  settled.  I  am  glad  that 
the  plan  for  our  escape  is  not  to  be  carried 
out,  but  that  we  are  to  show  to  the  world  that 
we  are  not  afraid  to  abide  the  consequences 
of  following  what  we  believe  to  be  the  direc- 
tions of  our  Lord. 

"To-morrow,  then,  we  shall  be  taken  before 
the  magistrates  to  be  tried,  and  of  course  con- 
demned and  punished  for  being  Baptists.  I 
say  of  course^  for  I  can  hardly  think  that 
John  really  hopes  for  our  acquittal,  though 
he  tried  to  make  me  think  so,  that  I  might 
have  the  less  fear.  I  see  no  grounds  for  any 
such  hope,  for  we  can  hardly  expect  Governor 
Bellingham  to  show  any  more  mercy  to 
heretics  than  was  granted  them  by  his 
decessor." 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       365 

We  have  read  what  the  maiden  wrote  be- 
fore she  lay  down  to  sleep.  Truly,  she  had 
reason  enough  for  fear,  reason  enough  why 
her  slumber  should  be  disturbed  and  restless. 
But  the  hours  of  the  night  passed  away  and 
she  neither  woke  nor  stirred ;  her  dark  hair 
fell  in  rich,  wavy  masses  over  the  coarse  linen 
of  the  bed ;  her  head  rested  upon  her  white, 
delicately-rounded  arm,  and  her  lips  wore  a 
half-sad  smile,  as  if  in  her  dreams  she  saw 
visions  far  different  from  those  that  the  light 
of  the  morning  might  reveal  to  her. 

"  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep.** 

31* 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CAST   OUT   FROM   HOME. 

j|HE  magistrates  were  merciful.  John 
and  Ruth  were  condemned,  found 
guilty  of  the  heresy  of  the  Baptists, 
and  banished  from  the  colony  upon  pain  of 
death.  Only  banished  !  Not  whipped  !  not 
mutilated !  not  even  remanded  to  prison  to 
languish  within  its  narrow  walls  1  Only 
banished !  Twelve  hours  longer  they  were 
allowed  for  their  preparations ;  then,  if  they 
were  still  within  the  limits  of  the  town,  they 
would  forfeit  the  mild  indulgence  of  the  mag- 
istrates and  be  again  seized.  Forty-eight 
hours,  and  they  must  be  beyond  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  colony. 

As  the  brother  and  sister  came  down  to- 
gether from  the  prisoner's  stand,  Paul  Wal- 

366 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S   FAMILY.       367 

lingford  and  Grace  pressed  forward  through 
the  crowd  an'd  met  them.  A  silent  pressure 
of  the  hand,  an  earnest  glance  full  of  sym- 
pathy and  gratitude,  were  all  the  friends  al- 
lowed themselves  as  an  expression  of  their 
emotion.  They  passed  out  into  the  street  and 
hurried  away  to  the  house  that  had  been  their 
home,  to  Master  Hathorne's  dwelling. 

John  and  Ruth  wondered  that  they  should 
be  led  in  this  direction,  but  Grace  bade  them 
wait  until  they  arrived,  when  all  would  be  ex- 
plained to  them.  So  they  went  on  their  way 
through  the  familiar  streets,  past  the  houses 
of  their  friends,  noting  carefully  and  sorrow- 
fully all  things,  for  this  was  the  last  time  they 
would  behold  them.  At  length  they  came  to 
the  little  garden ;  then  to  the  paved  court- 
yard before  the  house ;  and  there  at  the  open 
door  stood  their  mother,  as  she  had  stood 
once  before  to  receive  them,  alone  but  with 
outstretched  arms. 

For  a  little  while  they  all  sat  together  in  the 
family-room,  and  then  it  was  that  John  and 
Ruth  learned  of  their  father.  He  was  ill ;  in 
his  room  above  he  was  stretched  upon  the  bed 


368        MASTER   HATHORNE^S  FAMILY. 

of  pain.  They  did  not  tell  them  that  it  was 
chiefly  his  great  sorrow,  shame,  and  angei 
that  had  brought  his  illness  upon  him,  but 
they  only  said  that  while  he  firmly  refused  to 
see  them  before  their  departure,  he  had  con- 
sented to  their  return  for  the  few  brief  hours 
of  their  stay  in  the  town.  He  felt  that  he  had 
done  his  duty  in  banishing  his  unbelieving 
children  from  his  roof,  but  he  would  not  now 
inflict  such  pain  upon  their  mother  and  the 
others  to  whom  they  were  so  dear  by  re- 
fusing them  an  interview  before  their  final 
departure.  He  would  not  see  them,  but 
others  could  satisfy  their  own  consciences  in 
the  matter. 

And  so  they  were  all  united  once  more, 
but,  alas  I  for  the  last  time.  But  there  was 
too  much  to  be  done  to  allow  of  any  great 
delay,  and  quickly  the  reunited  friends  arose 
to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  the 
journey  to  Providence ;  for  it  was  determined 
that  thither  the  banished  brother  and  sister 
should  direct  their  steps. 

Grace  and  her  mother  left  the  room  to- 
gether to  seek  Prudence  and  make  needful 


MASTER  HATHORNR'S  FAMILY.       ^69 

arrangements.  John  went  away  to  the  room 
that  had  been  his  own  in  happier  days ;  and 
Ruth — Paul  Wallingford's  hand  was  laid 
gently  upon  her  arm,  as  she  was  turning 
away,  and  she  remained  with  him. 

Sorrowful  indeed  was  the  parting  when  at 
last  the  hour  came  in  which  the  little  party 
turned  their  faces  for  ever  away  from  the 
loved  home.  Assembled  in  the  great  hall, 
with  the  household  domestics  standing  around, 
their  faces  sad  and  their  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
the  divided  family  stood.  Somewhat  busier 
perhaps  than  the  occasion  demanded,  John 
was  engaged  in  buckling  and  arranging  care- 
fully the  strap  of  his  sword  belt,  while  Ruth 
hung  weeping  upon  her  mother's  neck,  her 
quick,  low  sobs  thrilling  to  the  heart  of  every 
one  who  heard.  Little  Grace  held  one  of  her 
sister's  hands  in  her  close  clasp,  as  if  she 
could  not  let  her  go,  and  Willie  was  clinging 
close  upon  the  other  side,  nestling  his  soft 
cheek  and  curly  head  in  the  warm  folds  of 
her  traveling-dress.  It  was  indeed  a  hard 
thing  that  the  peace  of  their  home  should  be 

T 


37°        MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

for  ever  destroyed.  It  was  sad  enough  thai 
hearts  so  dear  to  each  other  should  be  parted 
without  pity  by  the  decree  of  mistaken  zeal. 
But  it  would  have  been  far  sadder  had  those 
hearts  remained  united  at  the  expense  of  the 
truth  which  it  was  their  duty  to  cherish.  And 
now,  although  such  sorrow,  deep  and  full, 
was  welling  up  in  the  hearts  of  those  who 
were  to  depart,  they  both  rejoiced  that  they 
were  counted  worthy  to  suffer  for  his  name 
who  had  called  them  to  know  himself  and  to 
walk  in  the  way  of  his  own  commandments. 

At  last  the  final  words  had  all  been  spoken, 
the  farewell  kisses  given,  and  the  exiled  ones 
went  on  their  way.  Ah,  how  different  the 
departure  now  from  that  only  a  few  months 
before  !  Their  faces  were  turned  toward  the 
same  place,  but  there  was  weeping  now ; 
there  was  joy  then.  There  was  heart  rending 
now ;  there  was  sweet  hope  then.  Then  it 
was  the  fair  spring-time,  but  now  the  brown 
leaves  of  autumn  were  falling  in  melancholy 
showers  to  the  earth.  As  the  clatter  of  the 
horses'  hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance  there 
fell  upon  the  dwelling  a  dreary  chill,  as  if  the 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       $J* 

shining  sun  had  hid  his  face  in  anger  at  the 
deeds  of  men. 

Ruth  and  John  passed  on  quickly  through 
the  town  and  out  of  its  narrow  bounds  into  the 
free  and  open  country ;  and  as  they  crossed 
the  neck  of  land  that  joins  the  peninsula  with 
the  main  land,  they  breathed  more  freely  and 
felt  as  if  the  shackles  of  bigotry  and  fanati- 
cism were  shaken  off  for  ever.  It  was  with 
thankful  hearts  that  they  pressed  on  toward 
their  destination,  for  they  thought  of  what 
might  have  been  their  fate  had  not  God  in 
his  mercy  tempered  the  anger  of  their  judges 
— with  thankful  hearts,  but  with  hearts  how 
heavy  and  sad  can  only  be  known  by  those 
who  are  driven  guiltless  from  their  home  and 
all  that  they  hold  dear. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


THE  PURITAN'S  DEATHBED. 

jjHE  dwelling  of  Ezekiel  Hathorne  was 
hushed  and  still,  for  its  owner  lay 
upon  his  dying  bed.  He  had  not 
left  his  room  since  the  departure  of  his  chil- 
dren, and  four  long  weeks  had  passed  since 
that  day,  and  with  each  hour  he  had  grown 
more  ill.  For  two  weeks  he  had  not  left  his 
bed,  but  had  been  slowly,  almost  impercepti- 
bly* growing  feebler  and  paler  and  more 
wasted  as  the  time  went  by.  It  was  strange, 
this  last  illness  ;  no  one  could  tell  exactly 
what  its  nature  was.  He  had  taken  cold 
at  first,  and  had  been  seized  with  fever  ac- 
companied by  great  pain  in  the  head  and 
chest;  but  the  flush  upon  his  cheek  had 
paled  away,  the  pain  bad  left  him  after  a 

372 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        373 

little  while,  and  he  had  no  acute  bodily 
suffering ;  still,  he  did  not  become  better,  but 
only  worse.  He  lay  quietly,  uncomplaining, 
and  rarely  speaking,  but  growing  weaker 
with  every  passing  breath  and  seeming  to 
care  less  and  less  about  the  things  going  on 
around  him. 

His  wife  and  little  Grace  were  unwearied  in 
their  care  for  him.  One  of  them  was  con- 
stantly in  the  sick  room,  and  often  both  were 
at  his  side.  But  he  seldom  noticed  them  or 
asked  for  anything  at  their  hands,  and  they 
were  always  unsuccessful  when  they  tried  to 
draw  his  thoughts  away  from  himself  and  the 
subjects  with  which  they  knew  his  mind  was 
occupied.  For  both  Grace  and  her  mother 
were  well  aware  that  his  illness  was  not  so 
much  of  the  body  as  of  the  mind,  and  that 
continued  sorrow  of  heart  was  wearing  him 
slowly  away. 

Grace  had  never  told  him  that  she  also  had 
accepted  the  Baptist  faith  as  her  own.  She 
would  not  bring  further  suffering  upon  her 
father  and  hasten  his  steps  to  the  grave. 
Enough  pain  had  already  been  inflicted  upon 

32 


374       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

his  heart  by  the  action  of  his  two  eldest  chil- 
dren. Grace,  however,  had  talked  with  her 
mother,  and  told  her  frankly  all  that  had  been 
going  on  in  her  own  mind,  the  history  of  her 
inner  life  for  the  last  few  weeks.  The  good 
woman's  heart  had  been  greatly  troubled  by 
the  tidings,  for  she  would  gladly  have  had 
one  of  her  children  keep  to  the  old  faith,  yet 
she  had  concealed  as  far  as  possible  her  feel- 
ings from  Grace,  that  no  further  shadow  might 
be  cast  upon  the  closing  life  of  her  husband 
from  the  sad  faces  of  those  about  him. 

But  could  they  have  known  all  that  was 
passing  in  the  mind  of  the  sick  man  during 
those  long,  still  hours,  they  would  not  have 
feared  so  much  to  bring  to  his  knowledge  his 
youngest  daughter's  conversion  to  the  faith 
that  he  had  so  bitterly  opposed.  For  in  the 
quiet  of  his  room  he  had  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  one  great  subject — the  heresy  of  his 
children ;  and  though  he  looked  no  more  leni- 
ently, as  the  time  went  by,  upon  that  heresy 
itself,  yet  he  began  to  doubt  the  rectitude  of 
his  own  action  in  regard  to  those  who  had 
espoused  its  cause. 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT.       375 

It  had  been  a  great  shock  to  his  already 
troubled  mind  when  it  was  announced  to  him 
that  his  children  had  been  imprisoned.  It 
was  while  he  was  ill,  confined  to  his  bed  with 
the  painful  fever  fire  in  all  his  veins,  that  he 
learned  of  his  children's  arrest;  then  came 
the  tidings  of  the  trial  and  the  sentence  that 
would  probably  be  passed.  He  only  an- 
swered "Yes"  when  little  Grace  begged  him 
for  her  mother's  sake  to  allow  them  to  come 
home  once  more,  before  they  went  away  for 
ever;  but  he  said  no  more,  and  they  were 
content  and  brought  them  home. 

But  how  was  it  with  the  father  while  his 
children  were  beneath  his  roof  once  more  and 
for  the  last  time,  yet  he  would  not  allow  him- 
self to  see  them?  For  the  first  time  during 
his  sickness  he  was  alone,  and  there  was  no 
longer  any  need  of  remembering  that  others' 
eyes  were  upon  him ;  his  pride  was  all  put 
away,  and  he  bowed  his  face  upon  his  hands 
and  groaned  aloud.  The  voices,  ah  !  so  well 
known  and  so  well  loved — voices  he  had  not 
heard  for  many  a  weary  day — came  to  his  ear 
faint  and  indistinct  through  the  closed  door. 


37<>        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FA  MILT. 

His  heart  beat  heavily,  his  conscience  smote 
him,  his  purpose  faltered,  and  he  longed  to  cry 
out  and  call  the  dear,  lost  ones  to  his  side,  to 
ask  their  love,  their  forgiveness ;  but  he  stifled 
down  his  voice  as  the  words  were  even  rising 
to  his  lips,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands, 
he  wept  like  a  little  child.  So  the  hour 
passed,  until  they  had  gone,  and  the  golden 
opportunity  had  been  thrown  away. 

He  was  much  weaker  that  night  than  they 
had  yet  seen  him,  and  from  that  time  he  grew 
rapidly  worse.  Never  did  he  speak  of  John 
or  Ruth,  and  he  never  showed  in  any  way 
that  he  thought  of  them.  But  his  wife  and 
little  Grace  knew. 

At  length  the  time  has  come  to  which  the 
anxious  hours  have  been  hurrying  him  along 
while  he  has  lain  so  passively  on  his  bed.  As 
the  red  sun  near  his  setting  often  sends  across 
the  softened  landscape  a  sudden  gleam  of 
splendor,  brighter  than  any  of  the  glories  of 
summer  afternoon,  so  now  the  failing  powers 
of  the  sick  man  grew  strong  before  their  final 
extinction,  and  his  soul  in  its  near  approach 
to  its  God  cast  back  upon  the  earth  and  into 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       377 

the  hearts  of  those  who  surrounded  the  death- 
bed s  glesm  of  brighter  hope  and  of  fairer 
beauty  than  had  ever  emanated  from  it  be- 
fore. 

He  had  lain  all  the  morning  in  a  sort  of 
stupor,  taking  no  heed  of  anything  about 
him.  Mr.  Wilson  and  others  had  been  to 
see  him,  but  he  had  recognized  no  one.  At 
last,  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  awoke,  gazed 
hastily  about,  and  asked  in  a  trembling  voice 
for  his  wife  and  children.  They  were  at  his 
side  in  an  instant,  and  he  spoke  with  a  strength 
they  little  thought  he  possessed. 

"I  am  going  to  die,"  he  said,  taking  his 
wife's  hand.  "I  must  go  away,  but  I  will 
not,  I  cannot,  go  without  forgiveness.  I  have 
confessed  my  sin  to  God  and  he  has  forgiven 
me,  but  you,  ah,  how  can  you  forget  the 
wrong  I  have  done  all  my  dear  ones  I  God 
has  opened  my  eyes  that  I  may  see.  I  have 
been  blinded,  selfish,  ignorant,  thoughtless, 
and  cruel.  I  have  not  been  a  good  father 
nor  a  good  husband,  but  God  knows  I  mourn 
my  sin.  Ah,  John,  my  son,  Ruth,  my  darl- 
ing, I  loved  you  both  through  all,  but  I  drov° 

32  • 


378        MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILT. 

you  away  for  ever;  I  shall  never  see  you 
again,  never  hear  your  dear  voices — nevei 
in  this  world.  But,  thank  God !  there  is 
a  world  to  come,  and  our  entrance  there  is 
through  one  single  door,  that  is  open  to  all 
who  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I 
have  been  the  Pharisee.  I  have  thought 
myself  too  good  for  the  company  of  my 
children.  But  God  will  receive  even  a 
repentant  Pharisee,  and  I  shall  see  them 
again  when  they  shall  see  their  Saviour. 

"  Ah,  Grace,  I  cannot  ask  them  to  forgive 
me  the  wrong  I  have  done  them,  but  do  you 
tell  them  that  their  dying  father  blessed  them  ; 
tell  them  that  he  no  longer  thought  their  course 
sinful ;  tell  them  that  they  have  been  better 
Christians  than  I,  for  they  have  acted  as  their 
conscience  bade  them  and  I  have  not;  and, 
dear  little  Grace,  remember  that  it  is  I  who 
charge  you — I  who  have  been  so  harsh  and 
cruel — never  to  depart  from  that  which 
you  think  to  be  right,  though  all  the  world 
would  force  you  in  another  way.  Dear  child, 
love  Christ  the  Master,  and  it  will  be  well 
with  you,  whether  you  follow  your  father  cz 


MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        379 

your  sister.  Christ  unites  us  all  in  him.  May 
he  forgive  our  poor,  misguided  colony,  that 
would  seek  to  divide  from  him  too  many  who 
are  really  his  children  ! 

"  And,  mother,  you  forgive  me  too.  You 
have  been  wiser  than  I ;  you  have  blessed  our 
children,  while  I  have  cursed  them.  Now  I 
must  die.  God  forgive  me  and  all." 

Then  he  folded  his  hands  together  and 
said,  "  Let  us  pray  1"  and  they  all  kneeled 
down — the  wife,  the  sobbing  children,  the 
domestics,  who  had  crept  with  noiseless  feet 
into  the  dark  room — and  he  who  stood  upon 
the  border  of  eternity  prayed  the  Father  to 
keep  them  all  in  truth  and  holiness  to  the  end. 

His  last  words  were  spoken  painfully ;  the 
breath  came  slowly  from  his  lips ;  his  eyes 
opened  wide,  then  closed  again ;  he  mur- 
mured low,  and  they  bent  their  ears  to  his 
lips  to  hear;  it  was  only,  "Dear  John,  dear 
Ruth— for— give !" 

Ezekiel  Hathorne  slept  the  sleep  that  knows 
no  waking  save  at  the  call  of  God  in  the 
resurrection  hour. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 


THE    NEW    FAMILY   HOME    AT    PROVIDENCE. 

FEW  weeks  after  they  laid  the  old 
man  away  beneath  the  sod,  on  a 
bright,  fresh  morning  when  all  the 
air  sparkled  with  flashing,  crystal  moisture, 
all  that  was  left  of  Master  Hathorne's  family 
went  forth  from  the  dear  old  house  that 
looked  so  reproachfully  after  them  with  its 
staring  window  eyes,  and  turned  their  steps 
in  the  way  that  John  and  Ruth  had  twice 
trodden  before.  Mrs.  Hathorne,  who  could 
not  keep  back  the  tears  of  sorrow  at  leaving 
the  old  home,  rode  upon  a  pillion  behind  a 
sturdy  and  athletic  man.  Little  Willie  was 
similarly  mounted,  trembling  much  inwardly 
at  the  novelty  of  his  situation,  but  carefully 

380 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.        381 

trying  to  let  no  trace  of  his  fears  be  observed 
by  those  about  him.  Grace  rode  a  small, 
gentle  pacer  hired  for  the  occasion.  All  the 
domestics  of  the  family  had  been  placed  in 
the  families  of  two  of  the  neighbors,  except 
old  Prudence,  who  insisted  upon  going  to 
Providence  with  them,  and  who  now  rode  be- 
hind one  of  the  attendants. 

So  they  went  forth.  Sadly,  with  few 
words,  they  wended  their  way  through  the 
little  town  and  passed  beyond  its  boundaries, 
turning  toward  Watertown,  where  they  were 
to  meet  Paul  Wallingford ;  for  he  too  was  to 
go  with  them  to  his  home  and  .theirs.  As 
once  before  he  had  lingered  full  of  impatience 
at  the  junction  of  the  two  roads  from  Boston 
and  Cambridge,  so  now  he  was  waiting  by 
the  roadside  the  coming  of  the  little  caval- 
cade, and  no  sooner  did  the  sharp  clatter  of 
the  horses'  hoofs  reach  his  ear  than  he  gal- 
loped forward  to  meet  his  fellow-travelers. 

Paul  had  not  been  idle  during  his  stay  in 
the  colony.  His  work  had  been  so  faithfully 
performed  that  at  last  the  attention  of  the 
magistrates  had  been  drawn  to  him  ;  and  the 


3^2         MASTER    HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

brethren  of  the  Baptist  church,  which  had 
been  forced  to  remove  its  place  of  meeting 
from  Charlestown  to  Noddle's  Island,  begged 
him  to  save  himself  for  future  usefulness  by  a 
timely  departure  beyond  the  power  of  the 
Government.  For  a  long  time  he  had  re- 
sisted their  appeals,  seeing  no  cause  for 
alarm ;  but  now  the  ever  watchful  Solomon 
had  discovered  that  his  arrest  was  spoken  of, 
and  he  had  at  last  consented  to  go.  So,  with 
the  Indian,  faithful  and  true  as  ever,  as  their 
guide,  the  united  party  pursued  their  journey 
toward  the  home  of  their  loved  ones,  in  the 
land  of  religious  toleration  and  freedom. 

Now  our  task  is  nearly  done.  This  book 
is  not  a  novel ;  it  is  an  historical  narrative, 
and  as  such  it  must  be  true  to  its  purpose 
and  record  the  happiness,  the  peace,  the  deep 
joy  of  the  soul,  that  followed  those  whose  ac- 
quaintance we  have  made  through  its  pages, 
after  the  days  of  trouble,  doubt,  and  trial 
through  which  it  has  already  carried  them. 

There  was  no  delay.  The  Lord's  Day  fol- 
lowing the  arrival  of  friends  at  the  Plantations 
was  bright  and  fair,  the  warm  sunshine  stream- 


MASTER   HATHORNE'S  FAMILY.       383 

ing  down  through  the  leafless  boughs  of  trees 
and  cheering  all  nature  into  a  momentary  re- 
turn to  life  before  the  white-robed  death  of 
the  winter  of  New  England.  Once  more 
John  and  Ruth  stood  upon  the  bank  of  the 
clear  stream  where  they  had  first  seen  the 
Baptists  observe  the  ordinance  of  their  Lord. 
Their  mother  stood  beside  them  with  her  mild, 
loving  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  joy  ;  and  as  the 
music  of  a  beautiful  Psalm  arose  upon  the  clear 
air  from  a  hundred  voices,  their  little  Grace  was 
led  by  Paul  Wallingford  down  into  the  peaceful 
wave,  and  by  him  was  buried  in  the  baptism  of 
Jesus  Christ  the  Lord. 

The  dwelling  of  Master  Wallingford  is  no 
longer  cheerless  and  lonely.  A  happy  party 
is  assembled  in  the  great  room  on  the  right 
side  of  the  hall  that  has  hardly  been  opened 
before  since  the  house  was  built ;  yet  there 
are  no  visitors  there  save  the  family  of 
Master  Roger  Williams.  But  there  are  many 
in  Master  Wallingford's  family  now,  for  Ruth 
and  John  and  Grace  and  Willie  with  their 
mother  have  all  gone  to  live  beneath  his  roof 
and  make  his  home  happy  again  for  him 


384       MASTER  HATHORNE'S  FAMILY. 

For  him  !  Yes,  and  for  all ;  for  the  words 
spoken  in  that  one  last  hour,  when  Paul  with 
his  hand  on  Ruth's  arm  gently  kept  her  by 
his  side  until  he  had  told  her  that  he  loved 
Grace,  indeed,  but  not  as  he  loved  herself, 
had  at  last  been  crowned  by  their  mutual 
promises  before  God,  to  serve  him  togethei 
throughout  life. 

Peace  had  come  at  last  to  all.  But  their 
peace  was  that  of  the  followers  of  Christ — 
peace  with  God,  peace  with  man,  but  stern, 
unyielding  warfare  with  the  evil  in  the  world. 
But  as  their  days  went  on,  and  as  the  days 
passed  into  months  and  the  months  flocked 
round  the  standards  of  the  years,  they  found 
it  always  true  that  God  giveth  his  strength  to 
his  beloved,  sustaining  them  in  every  trial  and 
abundantly  redeeming  the  promises  of  his 
word  by  the  blessing  of  his  love.  So  they 
awaited  with  hope  and  faith  the  joys  of  their 
Father's  house,  where  the  Elder  Brother 
should  receive  them  to  himself. 

THE   END. 


SOUL"!™  REGIONAL  Uf 


A     000  040  549     8 


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